


Tenderly The Light

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Adult Edward Elric, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Blind Roy Mustang, Communication Failure, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Nobility Marries Money, Noble Edward Elric, People running dramatically through the rain, Secretive Roy Mustang, Slow Burn, Vaguely Victorian AU, Visually Impaired Roy Mustang, the yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: “Ah,” his father said, not even batting an eyelash upon Edward’s behavior. He leaned back instead, carefully capping his fountain pen before placing it on the papers in front of him. “Pinako must have told you then.”For a moment, Edward was almost blind with rage.He managed to recover, but only barely, and so it was from between clenched teeth that he hissed, “Why thefuckdo I have to find out about plans for marrying me off from Granny?”***********Edward tells himself he marries for the happiness of his brother. Roy tells himself he marries for better chances of greatness. Both of them are blind in their own ways.Arranged Marriage AU with all the stupid pining because I could not help myself but chase that plot bunny.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 113
Kudos: 256





	1. On The Nature Of Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this chapter and lovely background noise for this is Max Richter's [On The Nature Of Daylight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVN1B-tUpgs).
> 
> This story is seated in Amestris, but it's a vaguely Victorian AU. I'm playing very fast and loose with that because I can't be bothered, but mostly it means that there is the Fuhrer instead of the Queen and a parliament holding all the real power, comprised of the House of Lords and the House of Commons. The Prime Minister is the one bridging the gap between the two institutions and the one with real power in the state. Guess what's Roy's goal here. That's just background noise, tho, mostly this is about stupid pining and people being unnecessarily dramatic for everyone's entertainment.

“Master Edward!”

Edward did not care for the servant’s voice calling after him. He did not care either for the way his muddy boots dangerously slipped on the polished floor of the entrance hall as he flung open the house door and raced across it to run up the stairs. There was nothing but the blood rushing in his ears and his heart hammering against the confines of his rib cage in order to keep up with his inner turmoil. Arriving at the first floor, he almost slipped on the carpet in the hallway and slammed his hand against the wall in an attempt to let out a little of the silent rage building inside him. He did not want to face him. He absolutely had to face him. He wanted to punch that bastard’s teeth out, yet knew that he should do anything but. 

Well. At least he could rage in other ways.

Arriving before the study’s door, Edward did not even think about knocking. Instead, he flung open the door and stormed in, tracking mood all over the worn-out carpet that had once, in better days, been a wondrous thing of beauty. He hurled himself across it like a cannonball and slammed his hands down on the desk seated beneath a rather impressively sized window. 

“How could you?” he hissed without offering a greeting.

“Ah,” his father said, not even batting an eyelash upon Edward’s behavior. He leaned back instead, carefully capping his fountain pen before placing it on the papers in front of him. “Pinako must have told you then.” 

For a moment, Edward was almost blind with rage. 

He managed to recover, but only barely, and so it was from between clenched teeth that he hissed, “Why the _fuck_ do I have to find out about plans for marrying me off from Granny?” 

His father had the audacity to look almost pained and mutter, “I wish you would be more mindful of your language.”

“Fuck you,” Edward told him fervently. “And fuck your wedding plans. If you even entertain a single thought that I would simply follow along and be a good little puppet, you’re even more insane than I th-” 

His father took off his glasses in a very peculiar manner that cut Edward off quite effectively. He frowned at Edward for a long moment before he very calmly said, “I haven’t told you because the discussions are in a quite early stage and I don’t even know whether something will come out of it. I didn’t want to give you potentially unnecessary worry.” 

Edward opened his mouth and was surprised that he had not started frothing yet. Then he realized that he did not even know what to say to that. His fingers trembled on the surface of his father’s desk. He could remember a time where he had been small enough to sit on Hohenheim’s lap in that very study, listening as his father read a book to him. His mother had still been alive back then. His father had been a different man back then. 

He swallowed and eventually he managed a strangled, “Why?”

Hohenheim looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed, absently cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt, put them on again and said in an uncharacteristically upfront manner, “We’re close to financial ruin.”

Edward sat down on one of the two chairs on his side of the desk and stared.

His father sighed. “Well, you give me no choice but be very frank with you. Things have not looked good ever since your mother got sick.”

“Leave her out of this,” Edward said hoarsely.

Again, his father looked almost pained. “I wish I could. But her treatment was quite expensive.” When Edward opened his mouth, Hohenheim lifted a hand. “Please, Edward. I do not regret trying to do everything I could to … to … Well.” He cleared his throat and Edward looked at his hands instead of his father’s face, uncomfortable as ever with his grief. “In any case, it was expensive. And taking care of your brother was expensive, too, not to mention your automails.”

Edward pressed his lips together in a tight line to contain himself, to breathe, before he asked with, as he thought, rather admirable restraint, “So that’s why you’re selling me off like a prized cow?”

“I’m not selling you,” his father said calmly. “I’m trading you.”

Edward fantasized about strangling him. “How the fuck is that any better in any way except a semantic one?”

“As I told you, I’m still considering,” his father replied. “But it seems as if it would be an equivalent exchange where both parties gain something they have need for.”

Edward forced himself to breathe through his nose. He thought of Al, thought of his mother, breathed a little more and finally asked, “Well, who is it you’re considering, anyway?”

Hohenheim looked at him over the rim of his glasses. “Brigadier General Mustang.” 

Edward stared at him, mouth agape. 

He had expected someone from a noble family, but Mustang was not one of them - not one of the noble families of Amestris, and not one of the more notable ones from neighboring countries, either. His father had been known for his extraordinary accomplishments in the Cretan War, and his son had followed in his footsteps. He had made a name for himself in the Ishvalan War and went into politics afterwards. As far as Edward knew, he was quite successful there, perhaps even a little too successful for some.

And he was a bastard.

They had met only once or twice on the rare occasions Edward had been forced to attend a social gathering. It had been years ago; he had been a teenager back then, snippy and hotheaded and grieving, and Mustang had been one of the only ones not treating him as if he were made of glass, but that did not mean that he had not been insufferably sarcastic in the rare moments they brushed. 

“I see,” Edward said. “He’s loaded.”

“Well,” his father said. “Yes. Otherwise we wouldn’t hold this conversation.”

“I hate him!”

“You don’t hate him, you barely know him.” Hohenheim rubbed his chin. “There are other suitors I’m considering, but they are …” He grimaced a little. “Significantly older, and a lot of them have a gambling or drinking problem. I would like to spare you both.” 

“How nice of you,” Edward said sarcastically, but then he lapsed into silence and thought. His family was so old that it was one of the very few remaining that could trace its roots back to the Xerxesian ruling family. It had been considerably wealthy once, but the wealth had dwindled over the years and what dowry had been brought into the marriage by Edward’s mother had been used for the family’s expenses much as his father’s financial assets. They did not even live that lavishly - but Trisha had been sick for three years before she finally succumbed, and they all had been trying so desperately to help her that no expense had seemed too great. He hated to admit it, but his father’s thinking made sense on a purely pragmatic level: Edward’s social stance and title in exchange for financial aid. It did not matter whether he had had vague notions of eventually marrying out of love just like his parents had. It did not matter whether he had to leave this house, his brother, to live with someone he barely knew and wasn’t even sure he liked, no matter how handsome he remembered the man.

Al needed the money necessary to keep him healthy and work on improving that health more and more. And Edward would have died for him. He would have given him everything, everything, just to make right what he had done to him, just to put him into a little more ease. It did not matter what he wanted, not really. Not under these circumstances. 

“There is no other way?” he still asked and hated himself for his selfishness.

Hohenheim looked grave. “I am still evaluating. But I have already sold most of our grounds. I can’t possibly reduce our staff even more than I’ve already done and this is the last family house we’ve got left. We’re down to the bare essentials.” 

That was not entirely true. They still lived like nobles and could have theoretically chosen to lean towards a middle-class lifestyle, abandoning this house and looking for something less pricey. But it was a consideration only in theory. Society was not even close to abandoning classes, and they could not help being what they were.

Edward bit the inside of his cheek. “How old is he even?”

Hohenheim hesitated, which caused goosebumps on Edward’s arms. Oh God. So much about not being sold away. But surely it could not be that bad? He remembered that Mustang had been significantly less older than the generals he had followed around like a dutiful puppy.

“It’s not that bad,” his father said upon noting his look. “He is thirty-three.” 

Edward breathed out. It could have been a lot worse. 

“Why him?” he still could not help but ask. Somehow he had always been of the notion that Mustang did not particularly like him.

“He approached me with the idea, actually,” his father said. Again a faint crinkle of the crows feet around his eyes when Edward’s head shot up in surprise. “Somehow he became aware of our financial troubles and suggested a solution for both our problems.” 

“Great,” Edward said. He had known that Mustang was a social climber par excellence, but knowing that he was only one ladder step on his way to the top caused a sour feeling in his mouth. 

As if sensing his thoughts, his father said, “Please, Edward, at least consider. He sent an invitation for tea so that you two might get to know each other a little more while we discuss a potential marriage.”

“Inspecting the mare before buying it, I see,” Edward muttered testily. 

Hohenheim did not even bat an eyelash. “That goes both ways. He seems a quite upstanding man to me. There is nothing wrong with a little bit of ambition.”

“You marry him then!”

The crinkle deepened. “It’s not me he asked for.” He sighed. “At least consider accepting his invitation. I would accompany you, and he already agreed that your brother would be welcome as well when I mentioned your close bond.”

That was surprising enough that it gave Edward some pause. 

“Well,” he grudgingly said at last, “alright. I’ll give him a chance to show me how smarmy of a bastard he is.”

***

Mustang’s estate at the outskirts of Central City was quite impressive.

Edward, already highly uncomfortable with the way his attire was way more formal than he usually preferred, almost got angry when he had a first glance at the wrought iron gates that opened to a finely maintained white pathway leading to the building and a luscious, spacious garden around it. Mustang had sent them a carriage to take them to him, and it rattled across the fine sand until it stopped in front of the building. Two stories. A garbled porch leading up to the main entrance surrounded by a portico that seemed to go around the entire thing. Most of the house was painted so dark it was almost black, making the white features stand out even more. Nothing over the top, even considering the delicate moulding along the lines of the building. Hard contrasts, just the way he liked it, and not even remotely as flashy as he had half-expected. It was tasteful enough that Edward wanted to barf. He did not want to find any of this tasteful. He did not even want to be here.

Alphonse gently squeezed his hand. It was good of him to accompany Edward and their father to this - Edward had not wanted to put him under the stress, but Alphonse had insisted and there really was no arguing when his brother had made up his mind about something. And it was a good day for him; his eyes were bright and he was smiling widely enough that Edward could not help but smile back. 

“It will be alright, brother,” Al said. “It’s just tea.”

“I know.”

But it really was not just tea. Edward felt a flutter of trepidation as the door opened and revealed a woman with a pretty, stern face, her blonde hair tied up in a simple chignon. She wore dark riding pants and matching boots, a simple white blouse with an oval-shaped diamond brooch as the only jewelry next to the almost-overlookable diamond studs in her ears. Edward vaguely remembered her from the occasions in his youth; she had been Mustang’s shadow then, and it seemed as if she was his shadow still. Her face remained serious, but not unfriendly when she bowed. 

“I would like to welcome you in Brigadier General Mustang’s name,” she said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Riza Hawkeye. It will be my pleasure to assist you with whatever you need.”

No mention of her birth or rank, but Edward was fine with that. Her voice was calm and confident. Edward immediately took a liking to her and a brief glance told him that Alphonse felt the same. It was hard to tell what Hohenheim thought, but then again Edward did not give much about his opinion anyways. 

“Thank you,” Hohenheim replied and Edward managed a somewhat strained smile. There. He was showing his good intentions. 

“Please, follow me,” she said and led them inside. A servant was waiting for them in the vestibule and curtsied before taking their coats. Edward barely kept from fiddling with the hem of his jacket, burying his gloved hands in the pockets of his trousers before he could give into the impulse. His father shot him a look, but Edward could not care less. He felt trussed up like a turkey and thus more than gracious enough as it was, Hohenheim could take what he got or leave it. 

The interior was strong in contrasts as well. Ebony-black furniture against uncommonly light, almost white silk tapestry, dark wooden floors polished to a shine; no carpets so that their steps echoed through the hallway. Edward could not remember having ever been in a house without carpets. It was not a matter of money, that much was clear. He could not help but wonder what it said about a man to leave his floors that bare. 

They were led right through the first door to the right, leading into a quite spacious parlor. Light streamed in aplenty through the windows. An ornate, wooden arch led into a billiard room with a rather impressive bar. The parlor itself was not as stuffed with furniture and knick knacks as Edward had expected, especially from someone who did not come from old money. There was a piano, again a stark black against the light walls. This time, a long Persian rug in the middle of the floor, a rather impressive chandelier dominating the ceiling. Tasteful moulding along the upper walls. A bay window with a small, dark table and four fitting chairs already laid out for tea. A chess table with two chairs in front of a lit fireplace, undoubtedly to keep the still-lingering winter chill at bay. 

Edward did not hate it. He hated that he did not hate it.

“Please, take a seat,“ Miss Hawkeye told them. “The general will be with you shortly.“

“Very kind of you, thank you.“ 

They sat while she slipped out of the parlor. His father made sure that the seat between him and Edward remained free. He hated him a little for it, yet realized that it was merely one of the little steps in the dance they had come for. The dance he had agreed to attempt, for their family‘s sake. For Al‘s sake. Edward smiled at his brother to calm his nerves and remind himself why he was here.

The door opened. Edward‘s insides twisted themselves into tight knots, but just like his father he stood and looked. 

A man had entered the parlor, closely followed by Miss Hawkeye. He had the bearing of a soldier underneath his well-tailored three-piece suit in a blue so dark it looked almost black at first glance. His hair, neatly slicked back, was black, too, but Edward was too distracted by the rest of his face to give it more than fleeting thought. The shape of his dark eyes was Xingese enough that it was surprising, but it certainly only did him favors and matched the attractiveness of his smiling mouth. It was quite evident that Mustang could not be older than forty, was visibly closer to thirty, and he was still handsome enough that Edward felt equally surprised and betrayed by the way it sent a tingle down his spine. Bastard.

“Ah, Lord Elric,“ Mustang said, and even his voice was pleasant enough it made Edward want to scream. “How lovely to meet you and your sons.“

“The pleasure is all mine,“ Hohenheim replied, suddenly perfectly capable of being charming and nice when he had to be, as they shook hands. “Allow me to introduce you. This is, as you doubtlessly already knew, Brigadier General Mustang. General, this is my older son Edward - as you already know -, and this is his younger brother Alphonse.”

“A pleasure,“ Mustang said all velvety and first shook Alphonse‘s hand before he turned to Edward.

Very subtly, Miss Hawkeye touched his lower arm for the briefest of moments, so quickly that Edward was not even sure he had seen it.

He forgot about it when Mustang lowered his gaze a little and Edward looked directly into his eyes. Mustang smiled, and it was a hard-enough blow that Edward almost did not regulate the force of his gloved automail hand. If he squeezed too hard, Mustang did not let it show.

“I am very glad to meet you again, Edward,“ he said, and now the velvet was directed at him, and Edward did not quite know what to do with that - especially since he remembered the biting, blindingly witty sarcasm from before. This was nothing like that. This was a side he did not know of a man he barely knew as well. “I don’t know if you remember, but we’ve met before.” 

He had never been courted before, had never even taken a lover. He was still young, and there was so much in the world he had not seen yet was interested in: Songs he had not yet heard, books he had not yet read, hills he had not yet conquered, sunsets he had not yet seen, darkness he had not yet felt, stars he had not yet tried to catch. A whole life, a whole world sprawled out in front of him, just at the other side of that bay window to be found in a cold, early spring day. 

But then again, Edward had already held the world‘s core in his hands the day his brother had been born. He had seen all the light in Alphonse‘s eyes, had heard all the songs in his laughter and all the stories in his words, had rolled with him over the only hills really worth conquering because they had conquered them together, had watched with im all the sunsets really worth watching for because they had watched them together, had dug both of them out of the darkness he had thrown them into, would have slain gods to pour their stars before Alphonse‘s feet. What did it matter that he stood in a house that would probably become his cage? There were worse cages to be caught in, surely, with worse men as jailors, too. The least he could do was listen and try. 

So Edward smiled at Mustang as best as he could, and his voice was steady as he replied, “So am I.“


	2. At Dusk‘s Wounded Core

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another episode of “Roy is an absolute idiot“, brought to you by yours truly. Thank you for all your lovely encouragement, I hope you‘ll enjoy the train wreck of a wedding (night) in this chapter :D
> 
> As background music for this chapter I‘d like to suggest [Charms](https://youtu.be/YCc3gkJKovk) by Abel Korzeniowski, [Best Day Ever](https://youtu.be/_pUlOoPBBV0) by Alain Silvestri and [Nuvole Bianche](https://youtu.be/23_C-_ymAFA) by Ludovico Einaudi in that order.

Maes, of course, thought that all of this was a big mistake.

They strolled through Roy‘s garden, their arms interlinked and the air full of sweet, flowery scents, and Maes said, “Of course I understand why you‘re doing it. I just think that it is a recipe for disaster. Marriage is something holy-“

Roy laughed, short and cruel in its neutral amusement. He tried to gentle the slight by asking, “You do realize that you and Gracia have something very precious and rare? Most of the marriages I know-“

“You‘re not most people, Roy,“ Maes said and stopped. Roy could feel his hand squeeze his arm almost a little too tightly, but he didn‘t look. They were close to a row of daffodils, their heads bright enough to turn them into little dots of light at the edge of Roy‘s vision for a brief moment. “I worry for you.“

“I‘ll be perfectly fine.“

“You need an ally, not a pawn.“

“I need a title and more influence. This marriage will give me both. And it‘s not as if the Elrics don‘t benefit from it, I‘ll make sure of that. You know very well that sometimes you have to play by the system in order to beat it.“

Maes sighed. It was a quite long and deep sigh, long and deep enough, in fact, that Roy gently elbowed him for it. Maes nimbly evaded him and laughed a little, a note of helplessness in his voice when he said, “This is not what I wish for you. You deserve love, and it‘s not that uncommon to actually find it, no matter what you think. Ambition is well and good, but every achievement is better when you come home to someone you can share it with at the end of the day.“

“I‘ve got you and Riza. That‘s enough for me.“

“Stubborn idiot,“ Maes said fondly. Then, “He‘s so young, Roy.“

“He‘s nineteen years old, not a child. And we‘ve been through this - it‘s easier that way. He won‘t cling, and I won‘t say a word when he‘ll enjoy his youth. He won‘t mess with my life and I won‘t mess with his. Not to mention that I don‘t think it will be an overly strenuous ordeal. He is quite a bright mind, at least.“

“Well, yes, but he’s also known for quite the temper.“ Maes was quiet for a moment. “Actually, I thought you would prefer someone less … intelligent.“

“Well, yes,“ Roy admitted. “It would be easier to handle him if he were stupid, but I‘ve thought about it and it‘s a risk I‘m willing to take. I don‘t think he will be interested in what I‘m doing. When we had tea the other day, it was very clear that he barely keeps up with politics if he doesn‘t absolutely have to.“ 

And he had been secretly delighted with it. The glimpses he had already noticed in the infuriating teenager back when they had stumbled into each other once or twice were still there, if a little filled by experience and age. During their tea, Edward had been dismissive to the point of bordering on rudeness, shifting in his seat and playing with his teacup and silverware in a clearly bored cadence of soft, clinking sounds as Roy, Lord Elric and his brother Alphonse talked politely about General Hakuro‘s lovely new wife, the new bills on coal supply and fixation of working hours that were due to pass in two weeks and the fortunate election of Lord Grumman as prime minister. Lord Elric‘s quiet exasperation with his elder son had been almost palatable, and it had only dissipated when Roy had found out that he could rope both brothers into an engaged conversation about the newest scientific developments. Edward had come alive then, his arms flowing shades of light as he had gestured to undermine an argument. His passion was delightful. Delightful enough that it made Roy think that their union could even be a vaguely pleasant one, if they both chose not to entirely ignore each other.

He did not breathe a word of this to Maes and could not even say why. Perhaps because there was a certain simplicity to hiding behind utterly practical motivations. 

Maes, however, had a way of knowing people better than they knew themselves. It was easy to forget the sharp mind behind his easy attitude and the way he was so wholeheartedly dedicated to his family. Roy had not been distracted by his handsome face and the way his eyes usually twinkled with laughter for a long time now, and still he sometimes forgot until Maes reminded him, just as he did now.

“You like him,“ he said and there was definitely an audible smile in his voice. “Why, I almost think you might have chosen him not only for political reasons.”

“I don‘t hate him,“ Roy replied very carefully. Then he hesitated, but this was Maes, and if there was anyone he could trust in, it was him. “His father will find a suitor eventually. Their situation is quite dire. And surely - although I do not deny that I’m not the best catch either - surely it is better than … well. I’ve heard that Lord Kimblee offered his interest, for example.“

He could almost hear the quiet terror in Maes’s voice when he answered, “God, no. The boy is too bright for that.”

Roy grimaced. “Please don’t call him a boy.”

Maes laughed. “Alright then. And for the record, I think you’re underselling yourself. You’re handsome, clever, financially secure, occasionally funny-”

“Why thank you, Maes. I wonder whether I should tell Gracia of your infatuation with me and ask her if she is alright with sharing.”

Maes laughed again at that, and the sound made Roy smile. They resumed their walk and did not talk for a while. Roy corrected the seat of his sunglasses and focused on the spot where their arms entwined.

“Your garden really gets lovelier with every day we move further into spring,“ Maes said. “I‘ll bring Elicia with me next time. It‘s beautiful - the grass is regaining its strength, the daffodils are lovely and some of the hedges have started to bloom.“

“Is that so? I think Jean has started with the vegetable garden as well.“ Roy smiled, pleased with Maes‘s satisfaction. “Please do bring her with you, and Gracia as well if she likes. I might need all the help with preparing the wedding that I can get.“

“He really accepted, then?“

“Yes. Our negotiations went smoothly, all things considered.”

“Well,“ Maes said after a long pause, and this time it was difficult to know what he was thinking. “We‘ll be happy to help, you know that. I just - I can‘t help but wonder - Roy, did you tell him that you‘re-“

“Well, no, of course not.“

Maes stopped again. It was rather dramatic, Roy privately found, but he humored him since Maes humored him often enough as well. “You do plan on telling him after the wedding, though, right?“

“I don‘t know why I should,“ Roy said.

He knew that Maes was staring at him, even though he had turned his head away. “You - Roy! Are you insane? How do you think you can keep this from him?“

“I have a system that works quite well,“ Roy replied tersely.

Apparently that ruffled Maes‘s feathers even further. “This is not a noble or a politician or a - a loose acquaintance you can fool for a few hours and get away with. This is a person that will live with you in close quarters, that will share your everyday life with you. He is going to be your _husband_. Don‘t be a proud fool.“

“I won‘t trust him with this weakness until I know for sure that I can,“ Roy said calmly without mentioning that he hated letting anyone in on his weakness. Chances were high that Maes knew anyway. “And if that day never comes, that will be fine by me, as well. I know you‘re only trying to look after me, but it will be alright.“

Another very deep and long sigh. Then he found himself quite suddenly pulled into a hug. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, his face tucked against Maes‘s shoulder. Loyal, good Maes. It was lucky beyond measure and an honor to have someone like him in his life.

“My only wish is for you to be happy,“ Maes told him in a voice so soft it felt like dusk‘s gentle touch. “If this is what makes you happy, I will support you every step along the way. You don‘t even have to ask.“

***

The wedding was, all things considered, a quiet little affair, which suited both of them just fine.

Roy found himself wistfully wishing for a little more than the few wisps of visual impression he got. He remembered Edward’s bright eyes and hair, but now it eluded him entirely and there was no way of knowing whether the rest of puberty had been good to him. As it was, he concentrated on everything else: The music weaved together from strings of a woman‘s gentle voice, violins and a piano, for example. The ceremony took place in one of the city halls, but everything apart from the general layout was irrelevant to Roy. More important was this: People murmuring how handsome they looked together. One or two of the guests sniffling and blowing their noses. Edward‘s gloved hands in his, one of them heavier than the other, both of them trembling slightly as Roy promised him protection and respect, but not love. Perhaps they should have talked more, before. Perhaps Maes had been right and all of this was quite insane.

The thought occurred to him as he gently tugged the glove off of Edward‘s left hand and was accompanied by another: That he knew nothing about his new spouse, not really. He knew why he had to slide the golden ring onto his left hand instead of the right one, and he knew that Edward had lost his arm - and, as rumors had it, a leg - in a terrible carriage accident that had happened when Edward had been thirteen. But he did not know what it had felt like for him, losing limbs so shortly after losing his mother, almost losing his already frail and then also injured brother as well. There had been no appropriate time to ask, and so he simply had not. It probably was just nerves that caused him to lose his grip on pragmatism and made him think of it now.

Some last words of the registrar; Edward‘s hands in his trembled on, then suddenly stilled as if their owner was steeling himself for a confrontation. Roy let out a silent breath. Years of practice hopefully made it look sensual instead of fumbling when he traced a hand along Edward‘s arm, his shoulder, before gently grabbing his chin. He lowered his mouth on Edward‘s and found himself surprised, although he could not even say why. It was little more than a peck, could barely be called a kiss, and yet he could not help but think that it was a strangely pleasant thing. He wondered if Edward had ever been kissed before. It was highly likely, seeing as he was a young man of noble blood in fine health (well, apart from a missing limb). But then again, he could remember how awkward a boy Edward had been, so who knew?

Gentle, cheerful applause drew him back into the moment. Roy straightened, let go of Edward‘s chin, pretended not to hear the way his spouse breathed out. Was he terrified? Was he exhilarated? How long would it take him to learn how to read Edward? It worried him that he realized he wanted to find out. That was not what he had married for, and he was fully aware how ironic it was for him to be afraid of becoming enamored with his, well, husband. 

They did not speak on their way to Roy‘s - their - estate where the reception would be held, but Edward caused a sound of small noises by bouncing his legs or thrumming his fingertips, as if he found it physically painful to sit still. Roy listened to him, resisted the urge to reach out and touch him in order to not scare him even further. As they rode through the iron-wrought gates, the sun started dying. Dawn‘s merciful fingertips smoothed the harshness of light, made him see a little clearer as he helped Edward out of the carriage. A glint of gold, just so, a halo around his face. Roy paused, barely more than a second and yet enough to still Edward while he tried to catch it again. Useless. Fruitless. Most colors escaped him these days, and it was stupid to try and hold onto them, so he let go.

There were a few people they had to talk to together and Roy noted that Edward was content to let him handle most of it, only offering a few words here and there. Something about him crackled with barely restrained energy, like a lightning bolt forced to buzz in a tiny flask. Roy was not surprised when he excused himself to talk to his brother and let him go with a smile that only hurt a little.

They came back together during dinner, which was held on a long table in the prettiest part of the garden. Roy made sure to remain as polite and attentive as possible as he tried to rope Edward into a few discussions, but his spouse remained stiff and cautious, his replies equally polite but without a single trace of his usual, delightful frankness and wit. It was not very pleasant, that nervous, slightly anxious tension between two newlyweds who were little more than strangers - in fact, there was something highly unsettling about it. Perhaps they merely had to find their footing, but it still felt like defeat. 

Riza found him at the bar after dinner was concluded and people milled about the garden with drinks and laughter, admiring Roy’s well-maintained grounds. She touched his shoulder in the way she always did to announce her presence; as if he could not make her out by smell alone these days.

“You look lovely,“ he said and she humored him by huffing a slight laughter. “Well? How was it?“

He could hear her think before she finally replied, “It was a very nice ceremony, and this is a very nice reception. The food was excellent, I especially enjoyed the cake. Your husband looks quite lovely.“

“Is that so? Hopefully not lovelier than me.“

“Well, it is your wedding day, therefore I suppose I have to flatter you a little. You certainly look presentable in your uniform.“

“I am not an embarrassment to him or to you, then?“

There was a smile in Riza‘s voice when she replied, “You‘re always an embarrassment to me.“

“Ah, of course. Forgot myself for a moment there.”

They were quiet for a while. Roy took a sip of his drink and stared into the darkness of the night sky instead of the lawn where hundreds of torches and fairylights illuminated the place. They had set up a band and people were dancing; he saw their whirling movements in the corner of his eyes if he concentrated hard enough. Taking a sip of his drink, he absentmindedly wondered whether he should have gone for fireworks after all. 

“Is he happy?“ he finally asked when he could not bear it any longer.

Riza hummed a little. “He seems pretty tense, but not close to tears. Better than nothing, I suppose. And I think you might be lucky for once, it doesn‘t seem as if he is particularly inclined to dance.“ She was quiet for a moment, but he heard her breathe in and then she added, “I think I like him. I thought so when they visited us for tea and I think it still holds true. His brother, too. I talked to him and your husband a few minutes ago, he was very polite. The brother. Your husband is a little rough around the edges.”

Roy grinned a little. “He is, isn’t he? Regardless, I’m glad of your positive opinion.“ And he was. If Riza had thought that there was something untrustworthy or utterly dislikeable about Edward, he would have looked for other options without thinking twice. “Well, I guess we both just have to get used to the entire situation. It’s all quite new, after all.“

Riza merely hummed in reply, then gently squeezed his lower arm once to focus his attention on the fact that someone was moving towards them. “It‘s Lord Armstrong.“

He found himself entangled in various discussions for the better part of two hours, chatting with everyone until he felt exhausted, dizzy with the lights that burned in his eyes and the effort it took to maintain the outward appearance of someone dazzling, young, healthy and confident, someone who had never learned to worry because he had never had any reason to, someone who was so used to having the world at his fingertips that he did not even know that other people had to work for their dreams. So he talked and laughed and charmed and flattered until the evening dwindled down and people started to take their leave. He went to find Edward since it was expected of both of them to see off their guests, and Riza finally pointed him out, murmuring into his ear that Edward was standing right to Miss Rockbell.

“Mylady,” Roy greeted her appropriately before turning his head ever so slightly. Another flash of gold as Edward moved a little. “Edward, I am sorry to disturb, but people are starting to say their farewells, if you could-”

“Finally,” Edward groaned, and Roy bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep from laughing when Miss Rockbell squawked indignantly at the breach of decorum. There was a yelp from Edward that let him tense, but Riza briefly touched him at the elbow to indicate that nothing was to be alarmed at.

Roy offered him his arm, but Edward was a breeze brushing by that left him reeling.

He regained his footing and, aided by Riza’s subtle directions, followed him, yet could not shake the feeling that this would not be the last time Edward would let him stumble. Perhaps Maes had been right and he should have married someone quiet and docile.

They managed their farewells just fine, Edward a warm presence at his side. Roy knew that his husband was a little shorter than him, his shoulder brushing against Roy’s upper arm every now and then, and it was a good thing he had become so automatically good at social circumstances like this one because the larger part of him was busy trying to snatch some impressions of the creature next to him.

One of the last ones to go was his new father-in-law, who shook his hand and said in a quite deliberate way, “I expect you to take good care of him and show him the respect he is due.“

“Father!” Edward hissed, audibly mortified. 

“I am merely saying that it is the duty of those that are more experienced to be mindful of those that are less so, and to guide them-”

“Just _leave_!” Edward hissed. “You’ve done enough already! God, just go home, I’ll - I’ll go find Al, will you be alright?”

It took Roy a moment and another subtle scoff by Riza to let him realize that Edward had addressed him with the latter part of the sentence, so he did what he could to best and smiled, betraying nothing of the way his insides had rapidly turned to ice. He was quite sure that Edward did not mean it like that, but the uneasiness did not subside. Of course he had assumed that Edward very likely was not happy with being stuck with him, no matter how pragmatic he had been during their marriage negotiations. Hearing it, however, brought it to an entirely different level. Nothing to be done for now but smile and reply, “Of course.”

Lord Elric sighed very deeply as Edward rushed away, his slightly uneven footsteps audible for a while. “I apologize, I suppose. I am afraid he inherited my youthful temper.”

“I can handle a little temper,” Roy replied and swallowed a comment that if Lord Elric had ever possessed a temper, love and later grief had burned it out of him quite thoroughly. There was a very faint undercurrent of exhausted resignation in everything he said, these days, even if he was in high spirits.

“Never say that to his face,” Lord Elric replied, and there was a hint of good humor in his voice. “I expect you two for dinner next Sunday.”

“We will be delighted.”

Roy watched him go and was acutely aware of Riza‘s presence in his back. Everything came with a prize. In this case, having her as a very important - perhaps the most important - part of the system he maintained to be independent and seemingly untouchable meant that he rarely, if ever, had full privacy. Somehow the entire exchange, although doubtlessly meant lighthearted, had caused his heart to throb painfully in his chest. Lord Elric was not wrong; he was responsible for Edward, in a way, and he had been confident that he would manage to give him a good life. That had not strictly changed, but more and more he realized what Maes had tried to tell him right from the start. And it was so hard not to be able to simply look into Edward’s face and at the way he held himself and know-

“Breathe,” Riza murmured. “It will be alright.”

Roy cleared his throat. “I’m sure it will. How many people are left?”

“Just us, the rest of the staff, your husband and your brother-in-law.” She waited a moment, then said with deliberate delicately, “Perhaps it is time to retire with your husband.”

“Ah. Of course.” He swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat. Ridiculous, really. Edward clearly was unhappy with all of this, the whole thing an entirely pragmatic affair, and Roy would be damned to make him more uncomfortable than necessary. So nothing would happen, and therefore there was nothing to be nervous of. “Where is he?“

“Underneath the willow tree, still talking to his brother.“

Roy hummed and thought about that for a while before he finally said, “Please arrange for the guest room to be prepared, just in case. It is quite late after all, perhaps Alphonse might prefer to stay.“

If Riza was surprised, she did not give it away. Instead, their dynamic shifted ever so slightly from dear old friends to commanding officer and subordinate, employer and employee, as she nodded. “Right away, sir.“

There was a reason why he had offered to host the reception right in his - their - garden. He could move confidently here as long as he was not trying to follow anyone’s path, even more so now as the music had slowly faded away, just like the guests. There was only the tinkling of fairy lights in the trees, the soft sound of grass underneath his feet, two voices in a quiet, comfortable exchange underneath the rustling leaves of the willow tree. They were smudges of shadows between shadows that moved when he came closer, and he did not even attempt to tell them apart.

“It‘s late,“ he said instead. “Our guests have already left. I was wondering if you would like a nightcap before we retire.“

“Oh, I should leave as well,“ Alphonse said. His shadow stretched and elongated, and his brother followed him immediately. “Has Father already left?”

“Yeah,” Edward said. “Couldn’t wait to get out of here, the a-”

“Brother,” Alphonse said with a sigh that shut Edward up in a surprisingly efficient manner. “It was a lovely evening, sir.“

“Please call me Roy,“ Roy replied without thinking, and yet also without regret. “We are family now, after all. If you would like to stay a little longer, please feel welcome to do so. A guest room has been prepared for you just in case.“

There was a prickling sensation on his skin, as if someone was staring at him very hard.

“That‘s very kind of you, thank you,“ Alphonse replied and did not manage to swallow all of his surprise. “But I really do not want to impose - it‘s your wedding night after all.“

Roy thought that Edward‘s breath picked up at that, but it also could have merely been the wind. “And there will be many other nights to come.“ He hesitated a little before he decided to simply move on. “Would you like me to wait for you, Edward?“

“No!“ Edward said so vehemently that Roy could have felt offended if it had not been obvious that Edward‘s nerves got the better of him. Nineteen years, he involuntarily thought, and who knew what he had seen of the world and its people so far. If he was a virgin, this should not be his first time to be bedded - not like this, not with someone he did not have feelings for. 

“Very well then,” he replied with the barest hint of irritation because he simply could not help himself. The outright rejection stung more than he wanted to admit, no matter how much he rationalized. “I did not mean to pressure.”

Some slight, shadowy shuffle before Edward hastily added, “No, that’s not what I meant, I meant - no, I don‘t want to keep you up, I‘ll just … if it really won‘t bother you, I‘ll just-“

Roy found that it was easy being kind to him at this very moment, and it had the nice side-effect of helping him get over the strangely disappointed feeling in his chest. 

“Don‘t think about it,” he said. His voice was calm and level, and he was secretly quite proud of himself. “This is your home now, too, do as you please.“

He had the feeling that his words startled Edward, but there was no way to tell since his mumbled words of gratitude could mean everything and nothing at the same time, and there were no other signs to follow.

So Roy bid them goodnight and left them there underneath the willow tree, and the night guided him through his garden onto the portico, through the vestibule inside. The house was quiet apart from the faint clattering of his servants. He rested a hand on the familiar rail and went upstairs. Riza‘s steps, then her hand on his shoulder.

“I‘ve prepared the guest room,“ she said.

“Thank you.“

A heartbeat of silence. Then she asked very neutrally, “He did not come with you?“

“No. His brother has decided to stay a while longer and I was unwilling to tear them apart.“ He smiled briefly. “I knew that they are almost inseparable, but I think I might have underestimated what that meant. It’s alright, though. I’m tired anyway.”

“I see.“ She paused. “Well, I‘ll tell the maid to lead him to the bedroom when he is ready to retire.“

“Thank you.“

Her touch on his shoulder turned from pragmatic into gentle. For a moment, he wondered whether she would ask if he was alright, then realized that he was not sure what he would reply in that case. But then she merely said, “Good night, Roy.“

“Good night,“ he replied and wrenched a last smile from the tired depths of his body for her. 

She let go and he went, closing the main bedroom‘s door behind him as gently as he could. A fire had been lit, since the spring nights still tended to be chilly, and he could faintly make out its glowing outlines. He forced himself not to think as he undressed and felt for the closet to hang up his uniform, then went for his nightshirt and slipped between dark sheets. 

Darkness, and quietness only now and then interrupted by a crackle in the firewood. He listened to it for a long while, staring at a ceiling he could not see, and could not help but wonder how it would have felt with a lover in his tender embrace.

_Well_ , he thought. _There you are now. You got the title, and you‘ll be able to move upwards. It doesn‘t matter that you were a romantic, once, and that this is nothing like you would have imagined your wedding night back then. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it._

Eventually he found sleep, but it was full of unease. At one point he thought he woke up as the floor creaked under the footsteps of a shadow that fled into the sheets next to him. But the image was fuzzy and slippery like light, and he gave up on it almost immediately and went back to his hazy dreams. Sometimes that was the best he could do.


	3. The Night Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for your lovely support, I'm simply blown away <3 Have a chapter where the boys continue to be unable to communicate properly and Edward's level of frustration rises to new heights.
> 
> As usual, a playlist to go with this chapter, in that order:  
> \- [Maribel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzOjkZZGyZM) by Oskar Schuster  
> \- [The Secret Life of Daydreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4) from the Pride and Prejudice OST written and performed by Dario Marianelli and Jean Yves-Thibaudet  
> \- [Vivaldi's Four Seasons: Spring 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pafDNPu06g) by Max Richter  
> \- [Elisa's Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaV2d8kkrAE) from the Shape of Water OST composed by Alexandre Desplat
> 
> For those that don't want to pause and open songs all the time, I made a [playlist for this fic](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJBit0CNBHD9G5gPW5V4QTn5FdpTUWK-B) where you can find the songs listed above. I'll update it from now on with every chapter!

Edward decided that his wedding night and the breakfast that followed the morning after had to have counted among the strangest and most unsatisfying happenings in the history of mankind.

Of course it had not helped that his nerves had gotten the better of him the evening before. First, the entire wedding felt like a hazy dream, like something that did not really happen to him. Mustang - well, Roy now, he supposed, and what a strangely bizarre thought that was - was perfectly cordial, but perhaps that was the problem: Edward simply did not know what to do or say to that version of the man. He was happy enough to immerse himself fully in Al’s and Winry’s presence at the reception, hating himself a little for the weird awkwardness and shyness that let him avoid his new husband as much as possible. His father gave him resigned looks for it the entire evening through, but Edward did not care much about that. 

What he cared way more about was the way Roy apparently did not care _at all_.

Al called it quite gentlemanly. Winry told him that it was probably because he found it all a little strange as well. But Roy did not appear either nervous or awkward, not overly happy or unhappy either. He merely carried on, smiled when Edward was there - but not even to his face, and he never looked him in the eyes either. He talked to him during the reception dinner, but only about light and uncomplicated things that did not hold an ounce of interest to Edward. Afterwards, he did not ask him for a single dance; not that Edward would have wanted to and not that he asked anyone else instead of him, but it was standard for newlyweds to dance, was it not? And then he even was perfectly fine with retiring on his own when Edward, nerve-ridden to the last, opted to stay with Alphonse a little longer just to calm down a little from, well, everything. 

He did not know what he expected. It could not have been nothing, otherwise he would not have been that disappointed upon discovering that Roy had, indeed, simply gone to sleep when he came to bed one or two hours later after Al had opted to take a carriage back home regardless, merely laughing when Edward had fussed over him. Edward told himself that this was for the better; they did not really know each other, after all, and it probably spared him a lot of awkwardness and silent suffering in case Roy’s performance was not up to his dashing appearance. 

So it was fine. It was fine to slip into a bed that was unfamiliar to him and lie next to a man he found disturbingly handsome and yet awkwardly unreachable. It was fine to curl up on himself and fall into a fitful sleep instead of being pushed into the pillows while he was kissed and touched and-

And he woke up, and the sun was already out and his husband gone, his bedside unmade but cool. Edward sat up, forced himself to breathe and told himself that this was fine. It was absolutely fine, and it did not hurt at all. Why should it, when he had already known before that the man probably saw him like nothing more than a convenient way to climb up the social ladder? But he had looked very handsome the evening before, and he had been nice, very nice even - he had readily accepted Alphonse’s presence in his home and let a room be prepared for him to stay the night. Edward was not stupid. He realized that not many men would have done the same if presented with the situation. He should have been grateful that his husband at least seemed to respect the deep bond between Edward and his brother, but instead he found himself fuming and upset at the casual acceptance of his delayed retirement.

It did not matter. There was no way to move but forward, so that was exactly what Edward did.

Edward slipped out of bed, poured water from a pitcher into the washing basin in the corner of the room and washed up. He decided to take a bath in the evening; there was a slight ache where the automails bit into his skin that suggested a turn of the weather. They had brought in his trunks the day before. He found most of them lined up against the wall facing the garden and rummaged through one of them before he found something appropriate to wear. For a moment, he wondered how much effort he should put into it. Was it even worth it, trying to pursue his husband? The entire thing was absolutely ridiculous. Edward had never tried to seduce anyone and found the whole situation quite absurd. He should not even have to think about all of that, but apparently the bastard made him work for it. It was ironic, really. Ever since he had been old enough that it had become socially acceptable - sometimes even before that -, people had told him how pretty he was, how handsome, how delicious. Granted, most of them did not get to see the automails, but still. And the one time he would have maybe actually wished for that kind of attention, he did not get it. 

“Fuck this,” he muttered and paused when he realized that he had his own household now and could curse and swear as he pleased. Well, not that he had particularly minded his manners beforehand, but the thought was still strangely liberating.

He dressed in simple black slacks and a white shirt, throwing on his favorite, bright-red morning gown for good measure before he attempted a more complicated braid, gave up halfway through and redid it into his usual style. It had to be enough for breakfast, surely. He could dress up a little more later. For the first time since the beginning of the negotiations, he wondered whether they should have gone on their honeymoon right away. But Roy was in a sensible phase of whatever he did - some bills or other were about to be passed - and could not be missed during the proceedings for quite some time. At the time they had talked about delaying their vacation, Edward had been on board with that. Now he wondered whether that had been a mistake.  
What had been done had been done. He took a last glance at himself in the mirror, deemed himself presentable enough and slipped on his gloves before he left the bedroom. Already he had noted that there were two libraries in the house, one upstairs right next to their bedroom and a bigger one downstairs opposite of the parlor. For the time being he restrained himself and did not go explore further. Instead, he thundered downstairs, only to be met right away with Riza Hawkeye’s stern face.

“Good morning, sir,” she said. “The general would like to request that you join him for breakfast at the veranda.”

“Thank you,” Edward said and stifled a yawn. “How late is it?”

“Half past ten, sir.”

Quite alright for a Saturday. “Please, call me Edward. Sir is my father.”

That earned him the barest twitch of a smile and he could feel himself relax. “Very well then.”

He followed her outside and found not only a quite pleasant spring morning, but also his husband with black, round sunglasses and a full, dark three-piece suit behind a carefully decked table that slightly bent under the weight of the food heaped onto it. Immediately he could feel his mouth water at the mere sight of it: Silverware, tea, fruits, kedgeree, rolls, toast, muffins, boiled eggs, poached eggs, devilled kidneys, sprats, ham, various forms of juice, even coffee. This was, in his opinion, the most splendid way to display wealth, and Roy did it magnificently. 

“Well, shit,” Edward said before he could get a hold of himself. “All the marriage stuff was worth it for that feast alone.”

Roy looked as if he had not yet decided whether to be upset or laugh, yet showed a heavy tendency towards the latter. Something eased in Edward’s chest, and for a moment he thought that they would return to the sort of ribbing he remembered from his youth. 

But then Roy gentled his face into something not unpleasant, but unreadable and said with an almost neutral voice, “I'm happy to hear that. Good morning. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I just asked for a bit of everything. Did you sleep well?”

It was like being presented with a brick wall.

Edward tensed, unsure how to react. But there was the food, and Roy’s neutral but smiling face, and Miss Hawkeye with her sharp attention - and nothing of that was inherently bad, not really. So he merely sat down on the chair opposite of his husband and reached for the tea, fully determined to ignore the sinking realization that he was married to someone who seemed to not even think enough of him to at least hate him. 

“I slept fine, thank you,” he eventually replied. There was not a single thing in the world that could not be made better by excellent food, but in this case he actually needed more than one slice of ham in order to swallow the disappointment and regather his wits in silence. “I hope you did, as well? Did I wake you?”

“Not really. You were very considerate.” 

For a moment Edward thought that Roy looked at him despite the sunglasses, really looked, and that there was warmth in his smile. But then he turned his head ever so slightly towards Miss Hawkeye, who stood ready at his disposal with the newspaper in her hands, and the moment was gone.

“Anything I need to know?” Roy asked casually and then told Edward, “Usually Riza reads the more important articles to me during breakfast so that I don’t have to go through the painful ordeal of sorting them out myself. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Edward replied, and for the rest of breakfast he busied himself with the bigger part of the table since his husband’s attention was on the newspaper articles and Miss Hawkeye, who read them to him before discussing their contents while he kept his gaze on the plate before him and ate with slow, precise movements. 

It was fine. Perfectly fine, even.

***

It was absolutely not fine, and he quickly got tired of pretending it was.

Over the following two weeks, Edward really tried his best to fill the role of an obedient husband who did not question anything and wanted for nothing. But that was nothing more than fruitless and frustrating; he did question everything and he wanted for a lot of things. That was, after all, the core of his nature.

It was alright the first two or three days. They spent a weekend that was a little strange, but not entirely unpleasant, even though Edward felt constantly on alert. Starting Monday, Roy was gone a lot and when he was at home, he spent hours in his study, leaving Edward to entertain himself. That never was a problem since Edward always found something to focus his attention on, but it made him realize that he missed having someone to ramble at. He had lived his entire life so closely to Alphonse that it was hard being separated now. His entire daily life had been upturned and it was surprisingly hard to find a new rhythm.

It did not help that Roy stuck to a routine so severe that there hardly seemed to be any space for him left. Edward quickly realized that his husband had orchestrated every single detail of his day, from the way he took his breakfast to the time he went to bed. Furniture and smaller items had to be positioned at exactly the same spot and service had to be punctual. His study was off-limits for everyone except him, their maid Rebecca and Miss Hawkeye. He always used the exact same routes when he walked through the house and garden, and Edward was pretty sure that he did the same thing when he left home. It was like watching a well-oiled machine completely caught in routine. It was, quite frankly, frustrating because it made it almost impossible to build a routine together, and combined with Roy’s permanent politeness it made the man appear blander than he was. Because he was not actually bland; Edward knew and felt very keenly that there was an extraordinary mind behind all of that, got occasional, blinding glimpses of it along with other glimpses of incredibly entertaining wit, but for some reasons Roy held back a lot of himself. He did not mistreat him at all, but he did not open up to him as well.

Well, Edward had always liked a challenge.

And Edward certainly had no intentions of sitting at home looking pretty while his husband pranced around parliament doing some political shit and everyone else did the rest of the work. So he tried to get familiar with everything first and made sure to become acquaintanced with the staff, of which there was surprisingly little and most of them had been in Roy’s service for years, working for him with a loyalty that was too immediately and easily forwarded to be faked for the mere sake of pretending in front of Roy’s new husband. 

There was Jean Havoc, a helpless philanderer with an easy laugh that Edward never saw without a cigarette, and who was responsible for every meal they were served, which automatically made him one of Edward’s favorite people in his new household. He was assisted by Rebecca Catalina, who was responsible for most of the household chores around and proved to be quick and capable. Alphonse took one look at them and insisted that there was something between them, but Edward insisted that he really did not care for clichéd drama like that. Both of them were aided by Kain Fuery, who seemed to take care of all things maintenance around their current estate and the country estate Edward had not yet seen, and who was a kind and cheerful spirit with quite the fondness for radios. Two other people who were around regularly without appearing to be a fixed part of the household staff were Heymans Breda, a member of the middle-class who often stayed and discussed budget matters with Roy, and Vato Falman, who was a little stiff and awkward yet seemed to be invaluable to Roy. 

And, of course, there was Riza Hawkeye, who was on a whole other level entirely. Edward tried not to think about her permanent presence right at Roy’s heels too much.

Instead, he became familiar with every nook and cranny of the house and quickly found that the two libraries were well-stocked, if a little lacking in certain areas. So Edward went and bought some books, and one of the best things about his marriage might have been the fact that he did not have to work with a tight budget anymore. He just went into his favorite bookshop and splurged, partially also because it was an excellent way to test whether Roy would become difficult once Edward hit a particular threshold with not strictly necessary expenses. If there was such a limit, it seemed to be absurdly high since Roy did not comment on the final sum at all. 

After having fully explored the house, Edward entertained himself by exploring the grounds. It was a well-maintained estate with several areas that bled together into a beautiful garden. There was the generous, flowery meadow they had held their reception at, an artificial lake with old weeping willows that might be his favorite, a rather large vegetable garden that was the apple of their cook’s eye, a rose garden that still needed to get into full bloom but promised to be very pretty already, and even a small, carefully crafted maze with high hedges that had elegant statues, cozy benches, wondrous installations made from fragile metal and light hidden in its corners and turns. It was exciting. Most mazes were tamed, harmless things with laughably short hedges, and this one was not exactly wild, either - yet there was a certain bite to it, an edge and a lurking quietness that suggested a certain kind of adventure. Edward loved it immediately. 

But all of this only kept him busy for so long, and he could turn to his studies and experiments - he had even been able to set up something that could one day be a quite decent lab in the cellar -, he could visit his brother and father along with Winry and Pinako, but that did not change how deeply infuriating living together with Roy proved to be. 

All of that would have probably been easier to bear if he had not gotten quite as mixed signals. Roy was hardly at home, but he seemed to make an honest effort of being home at dinner. He asked about the books Edward acquired and seemed honestly interested in their following discussion about them, but he never took a look at them. He liked to inquire about Edward‘s thoughts and wishes in general, yet rarely ever disclosed anything about himself. Sometimes their conversations would become almost playful, lightly-toned and bordering on flirty enough that Edward’s heart thudded in his chest, but then there always inevitably came a moment where it seemed as if Roy remembered where he was and with whom, causing him to close off completely again. 

And they still had not consummated their marriage.

Not that Edward gave much of a crap about the general concept of that, but they did not touch a lot at all. Roy had some unruly nights where he tossed and turned, but he shied away the two times Edward tried to hesitantly console him by touching his arm, so he gave up trying. He never made any moves towards Edward and their bed was big enough to make avoiding each other absolutely no problem. The entire thing was so absurdly frustrating and incomprehensible that it made Edward want to scream. Sometimes it felt as if there was an impenetrable bubble around Roy, as if Roy did not even think about the possibility of touching him or being touched, and it was maddening and upsetting especially at times where Edward looked at him and keenly wished to know what it would feel like being held by him - kissing him for real, more than the innocent peck he had gotten at their wedding. He realized that he was not the only one Roy kept at arm’s length, not by far. One of the two sole exceptions was Miss Hawkeye, the other one was Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, who liked to drop by every now and then and had a frightening habit of showing Edward pictures of his daughter and wife whether he liked it or not. Still, Edward could not help but take his rejection absolutely personal. 

“Seduce him, then,” Alphonse said matter-of-factly when one day, Edward complained about the entire thing in the most roundabout way he could. 

Edward sputtered in anger and indignation. 

His brother sighed and added, “Well, you usually take matters in your own hands, why not in that case, too? Apparently you won’t be able to simply tell him that you want to climb him like a tree-”

“Alphonse!”

“Stop being a prude, brother,” Al told him with a cheeky grin. “I’m not ten anymore, and you’re married. We’re grown-ups. So, since you’re unable to simply talk about it and sort it out like a sensible person, you’ll just have to show him. Dress nicely. Initiate contact. Make compliments. All is fair in love and war and so on. You’re very handsome, I can’t imagine it’ll be that difficult - I’m sure he just has to realize that you’re really interested.”

All of that was rather sensible advice, which was not that unexpected because Alphonse could usually be fully relied on in those matters despite the fact that he had little first-hand experience himself. But he did not know about the suspicion Edward kept quiet about and yet could not help thinking about on a maddeningly regular basis: That his husband was completely infatuated with Riza Hawkeye, and she with him.

The worst thing was that Edward _liked_ Miss Hawkeye. She was quiet and stoic, but quick-witted and perceptive, and during certain banters with Roy she showed a gentle sort of humor underneath her neutral professionalism. On top of that, he supposed that she was also pretty, if one had that kind of fondness for women. And it was obvious that she cared immensely about Roy and he for her. It was in every single one of their interactions, even though they never were very loving in a strict sense. However, their lives were so deeply entwined, their rhythm so well-established, that Edward occasionally felt like an intruder in his own marriage, and that was by all accounts a pretty shitty feeling. He was not part of their interaction, always felt as if there was something missing that Riza had figured out, yet which kept him from connecting with Roy. 

Well. He had never been one to give up easily. This was his life now, his household and his husband, and he would be damned if he did not even attempt to win him over - at least a little, at least a piece of him to keep for himself. He was not entirely against sharing, but he wanted something to share first, more than what he currently had, which was not much at all. 

And so, while spring gently melted into the first tender beginnings of summer, he set out to seduce his husband.


	4. Good Morning, Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm floored by all the love I receive for this fic, thank you all very much! <3 Have the newest idiotic endeavours of people who love each other yet can't communicate their feelings if their life depended on it.
> 
> As usual, this chapters comes with music which you can find [here on Youtube](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJBit0CNBHD9G5gPW5V4QTn5FdpTUWK-B) as a playlist. The part for today's chapter starts with _The Cheek of the Night_ by Abel Korzeniowski, moves along to _Blind Endeavours_ (see how witty I am?) by Samuel Sim, followed by _My Edward and I_ (another thing of brillance, I know) from the Jane Eyre OST and finishes with _Schwanengesang D. 957: Ständchen (Leise flehen meine Lieder)_ by Franz Schubert, arranged for piano. The last one is the piece Roy plays.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to update again next Thursday, but there might be a bit delay.  
> For now, I hope you'll enjoy this!

While spring gently melted into the first tender beginnings of summer, Roy started to live in permanent fear.

The reason for this was that Edward started to firmly insert himself into his routine and habits, which he did with his usual drive and passion. That, in return, meant that Roy was no longer safe in his own four walls since Edward seemed hellbent on turning his life upside down, which perhaps would have not been that much of a problem had Roy not relied heavily on that very same staticky routine and environment to compensate for his lacking eyesight in a dignified manner. Which, of course, Edward still did not know. And which, of course, Roy was still not interested in telling him. The advantage was that he preserved his dignity and power. 

The disadvantage was that a series of highly stressful situations occurred to him over the course of the next weeks. 

One day he came home and found a thick carpet on the floor of the hallway, swallowing all the footsteps Roy usually listened to in order to know who walked where. When Rebecca suddenly appeared at his side to take his coat, he screamed like a little girl, causing Riza to immediately rush to his aid.

“Oh, dear,” she said while Rebecca, wheezing with barely suppressed laughter, apologized profusely. “Well, you’re certainly awake now.”

Roy was still trying to get a hold of his racing heartbeat when footsteps thundered down the stairs - Edward, who never walked slowly like a sensible person and had that tell-tale, slightly mismatching rhythm in his footfalls. Roy straightened and tried to appear as if he had not almost died from a heart attack a few moments ago. 

“Well?” Edward asked and Roy squinted for a moment to make sure that he really had stopped right in front of him. “I got a new carpet to make it a little homier. It’s just weird to not have any carpets out here. What do you think?”

He sounded so deeply pleased with himself that Roy could not help but suck it up, smile and reply with a politician’s polished dishonesty, “It’s lovely.”

After the carpet, it was a new hallstand he tripped over, cursing up a storm in the process. Two days later, Edward started to rearrange things in the parlor, which meant that Roy had to get re-acquaintanced with that part of his own god damn lodgings again, using an afternoon where Edward was out for groceries to feel his way through with Riza’s assistance.

“You know that all of this could be avoided,” she said and did not even bother phrasing it like a question. Clearly she thought him an idiot and maybe she was right about that, but she still stood next to him while he was mapping out the new table location.

“Who am I to deny him making this house his home?” he replied.

“You’re an idiot, sir,” Riza said in that tone she reserved for the moments where she thought that he particularly excelled in stupidity. “It’s not as if you’d be willfully denying him, and I’m pretty sure he would not mind accommodating you.”

Roy bristled at that, something hot like humiliation burning in his neck. He knew that it was absolutely stupid. But there were a lot of occasions where he had to humbly rely on others already while keeping up the appearance that he did not need to do so, and he would be damned if he would not try to wrestle back some modicum of control over what happened in his house on his own.

So he firmly said, “I don’t need to be accommodated. I’m not a liability and I don’t mind getting used to a few new circumstances.”

His staff was torn between trying to save him from getting hurt and complying with Edward’s endeavours since he was entirely in his right to change things around here, and as long as Roy did not actively oppose him, they did not really know what to do. He was forced to rethink his stance on the matter after the incident with a new vanity bench that was a few inches lower than what he was used to, causing him to miss and topple off of it rather ungracefully right in front of his husband. Thankfully, Edward merely seemed to think him a little clumsy and was not above laughing at him before helping him up. 

“Is that your way of subtly protesting against my renovations?” he asked.

His hand was firm around Roy’s arm and Roy realized that they rarely were that close as they were that moment. It was not the first time he noticed how nice Edward smelled: fresh, a hint of spice in what otherwise reminded Roy of summer. He had taken to wearing a lot of red and it permanently danced at the blurry edges of Roy’s vision, one of the very few colors that occasionally managed to get through his field of grey shadows. How easy it would have been to simply let his hand wander along Edward’s arm, pull him closer and bury his nose in his neck to breathe in deeply. But it had been a long day spent in full control by then, and Roy was almost burned out so that stress and anger won out. 

So he let go and said very bluntly, “Edward, I am begging you. You can change whatever you like, but please give me a heads-up.” 

“Well, alright, okay then,” Edward said and sounded so obviously taken aback that Roy could not help but wince a little.

“I like that you’re making this into your home, too, but I - when I get home, I’m usually pretty tired and that makes me stupid. Just tell me when you’re about to change anything so that I am prepared, alright?”

Edward breathed out. His voice was a little less hurt when he replied, “Alright. If you - yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

For a while he thought that the crisis had been averted, especially since Edward refrained from further renovations apart from new curtains in the upstairs library that did not bother Roy much. But then Edward started to insert himself into Roy’s personal space, and that threw him again. That, too, was alright in several aspects - Edward wanted to see and learn the household books in order to help with their budget, which was something Roy wholeheartedly encouraged. So he brought Edward together with Breda, who was responsible for keeping the books written in normal ink. The special copies made for Roy to be read with his fingertips were kept in his study and regularly updated during his meetings with Breda, which was something that did not have to concern Edward anyway. He also took over coordinating their purchases, especially in matters of food, which he proved to be quite adept at. Roy thought that it made sense; as the eldest child and with an early-widowed head of the family, Edward probably had to learn early on how to take part of the responsibilities for a household, especially considering their financial situation.

But then Edward started to dress up, and that posed a problem he was not even aware of until Riza cleared her throat one evening and said very pointedly, “You look especially lovely tonight, Edward.”

“Oh, yes,” Roy hastily said, “Yes, very … very nice.”

Disapproving silence from Riza that he could make neither head nor tail of. Even worse was the deep sigh that escaped Edward. 

“Thanks, I suppose,” he said in what was an unmistakably sullen voice. Roy did not understand where said sullenness had come from - he had confirmed Riza’s compliment, after all, and Riza had more or less good taste that he could trust in. Before he could subtly inquire after it, however, Edward seemed to get a grip on himself because the next thing he said held a more cheerful tone again. “Here, try this.”

It had been a bit of a surprise when Edward had started to insert himself into making their food as well. He spent a lot of time with Havoc who adored him from the start and, according to Roy’s staff, even allowed him into his precious vegetable garden.  
“I made this myself. Traditional Aerugan dish. It’s not that fancy, but it doesn’t have to be all the time,” Edward said and Roy immediately tensed when a plate landed in front of him. Usually he knew what he was in for, but now his first instinct was alarm. It took him a second to calm down and breathe in. Tomatoes. Onions. Peperoni? Definitely meat. 

“Ah, I recognize these,” Riza said smoothly, and Roy loved her fiercely that moment. “Spaghetti all’amatriciana, right?”

“Yeah,” Edward said and he sounded lovely, just lovely in his obvious pleasure and excitement. “I noticed Roy likes it spicy sometimes and we’ve never had spaghetti so far, so I thought I’d just go for it, you know?” 

Roy’s heart clenched tightly for a moment. “You really made this?”

“Yeah.” Some slight hesitation before Edward added, “My mom used to make them when we were kids. It was something she’d whip up on the first day of our stay at Flamel Cottage, to officially start the summer. I know, most noble ladies don’t cook, but she always said that one should be able to do those things without help. And she liked it, I think.” 

It was the first time he had related anything about his youth, and Roy soaked it up like a sponge while he silently gave his best to handle his plate. Most things he could deal with by now, but there were certain dishes that still proved a little more difficult.

“Did you like it there?” He asked, partly because he was really interested and partly because he hoped that it would distract Edward from his silent, but graceless fumblings. 

“Loved it,” Edward replied and the wistfulness in his voice could not be overheard. “It was our mom’s favorite place in the world. Our father proposed to her there, and it was just … it had her handwriting all over it. The cottage was pretty small, all things considered, but there was so much space around it. There was this tree that I really loved. She hung a swing there and we spent ages with it.”

Roy hummed and took a bite, and the food flooded his mouth with flavor, igniting it deliciously. He chewed, swallowed and said, “We should visit it one time.”

“Oh,” Edward said and was quiet for a moment. Roy focused hard enough on him to make out some slight movement as if he were shrugging. “We had to sell it two or three years ago. Sucks, but that’s just how it is, I guess.”

“Hmmm,” Roy said and made a mental note to have Falman gather some information about the cottage’s new owner. 

He did not breathe a word of this to Edward since he did not wish to raise any hopes in case he would not be able to succeed in the endeavor. But there was a part of him that very much wanted to succeed in it. Edward had only off-handedly mentioned his mother once or twice before their current conversation, but it was obvious how fiercely he had loved her - how fiercely all of them had loved her. Roy’s mother was a ghost at the edge of his memory, nothing more than the echo of a caress and a shapeless smile that lingered in certain perfumes, but he thought that never having a certain thing was sometimes easier than knowing what having it was like before losing it. In his short life, Edward had lost a great deal already and he still was so bright, blazing even, that he genuinely made Roy’s life better by simply existing in the same orbit - at least when he was not actively trying to murder him by buying new furniture without prior announcement. He had agreed to marry Roy as a sacrifice, although he might have gotten something out of it as well, and if there was anything Roy could give back to him to make up for a fraction of it, he would try.

That also included thinking about how to entertain him. 

“I think he might be bored,” he told Riza a few evenings later when she helped him get ready for a gala dinner with Lord Grumman. “There are so many explosions down in his lab lately, Havoc complains about the smell of sulfur all the time.”

“I think he is just frustrated, sir,” Riza said evenly while she did up his tie. 

Roy sighed. ”Lovely. I had my suspicions. I mean I’m not surprised, it must be dreadfully dull around here. Do you think it might be a good idea to involve him more into my social obligations? I know he doesn’t particularly care for it, but …”

“I think that might help, but that’s not the problem,” Riza said.

Roy lifted an eyebrow. “So? What is the problem, then?”

“Permission to speak as your friend?”

“Granted, as always.”

“Well,” Riza said, “the problem is that you’re too dense to realize that your husband is trying to get your attention.”

“What,” Roy said. Then, “Well, yes, I know, it’s because he’s b-”

“He’s not bored, he’s trying to seduce you,” Riza said. Her grip on his tie was very strong, albeit unnecessary since Roy was too dumbfounded to move. “He might even be in love with you, although I don’t understand why because you’re incredibly idiotic sometimes.”

“You’re delusional,” Roy said.

Riza breathed out. “You trust me to be your eyes every day, so just let me tell you this. He’s taken great care with his wardrobe the past few days. He even asked Rebecca to help him with his hair - lovely braids, by the way, which you would appreciate way more if you just touched him. That telling you this is even necessary drives me insane.” Roy opened his mouth for a retort, but Riza simply continued, “He sits closer to you during meals, he pays a lot attention to what you eat and say, he tries to be useful to this household. Honestly, it’s quite painful to watch for a lot of reasons. I know you don’t see much, but usually you still observe very well.”

Roy shook his head. It took him a moment before he could reply. “I don’t - why would he even want me?”

“You’re good to him, you’re handsome and he is a hot-blooded, young man. So really, there isn’t much speaking against you.”

“I’m blind as a bat and a murderer,” Roy said.

“Both of which he doesn’t know or at least doesn’t think about because you don’t talk to him about what scares you,” Riza said. “You try to take part in his life without letting him into yours, but that’s not how it works, and not only because I think Edward will simply squeeze himself in with brutal force if needed - and if you don’t scare him away. Why are you so afraid of this?”

Roy closed his eyes. His throat was very tight. He did not have to say anything; she already knew.

Riza’s touch gentled, and so did her voice when she said, “You can have this, Roy. You’ve taken the leap for others so often, take it once more for yourself.” She briefly touched his cheek, and the gesture was quietly kind and lovely. “Let him in. At least he’ll probably stop trying to break your neck with new furniture then.”

***

Roy came home late that night from his gala dinner, and he could not remember a single conversation he had held. Riza bid him goodnight, exhaustion apparent in her voice, and he let her go, yet refrained from finding his way upstairs as well. Instead, he wandered into the parlor and sat down at the piano, slid off his gloves and let his fingertips wander along the ivory keys. Quite often, a night proved to be too restless to even attempt to sleep, and then he inevitably found himself here, silently glad that the parlor was very far away from his and Edward’s bedroom as well as Riza’s. After all this time and due to regular use, he did not need to see the keys in order to find his way through them, and he was silently glad for that as well. There was levity to be found in the way he could lose himself in the simple task of picking his way through a piece of music - no political schemes that needed careful planning and calculations, no potentially catastrophic social interactions to be considered, no confused thoughts about his husband-

His husband, whose steps creaked on the stairs before finding their way into the parlor.

Roy paused, hands still on the keys, before he collected himself and turned his head with a small smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Nah,” Edward said with a voice smoothed by night’s gentle touch. Something twinged painfully in Roy’s heart. “I couldn’t really sleep anyway. Hey, I didn’t know you could play.”

“I’m not that great, but I like to tinkle the ivories a little sometimes, yes,” Roy admitted. 

Edward moved closer, then stopped for a moment as if hesitating before he continued his way. Roy sternly told himself not to startle and not to move when Edward sat down on the bench next to him, bed-warm and wrapped into something very red and very soft. Never had he wanted to touch anyone that badly. 

“You didn’t turn on the light,” Edward said. “Is that one candle over there really enough?”

Something in Roy’s chest turned into ice. Despite his galloping heartbeat, he managed to sound entirely unfazed when he replied, “Ah. Yes. Well, I spent the entire evening surrounded by nothing but light. It’s soothing to simply … not. And I don’t especially need it around here.”

At least that was not entirely a lie.

“You’re pretty strange,” Edward said, and the audible smile in his voice thawed the ice in Roy’s chest somewhat, allowing him to breathe more easily. “Can you play something for me?”

“What would you like to hear?” Roy asked. 

“I don’t know. Something you like.”

Roy thought for a moment before he decided on a piece, firmly refusing to inspect the impulse that had let him settle on it. He knew that there were lyrics that had been composed in accompaniment to it, but he had always thought that they were entirely unnecessary since the original composition, if played well, spoke volumes on its own. It was a piece like a sigh, like a lover waiting for their dear heart to come home; a gentle thing, ebbing and flowing like a river, always carefully dancing on the fine line between longing and melancholia. He played it tenderly, a little more quietly than strictly necessary until he got to the part where all the longing spilled out, rivulets of want cascading down in a shower of pearlescent notes before slowly ebbing out. 

The last note lingered like smoke. Roy breathed out, listened to reactions, but for once Edward sat so perfectly still that he was not even sure he was breathing. 

“Well?” he asked so softly that he almost did not hear his own words. He was not even sure what he was asking about. 

Edward made a small, indefinable noise. Then he said, “Bastard. You’re a liar! That was beautiful. Not great my ass.”

Roy swallowed a laugh at that and was about to reply when Edward added, “I think you just told me more of yourself than in the last few weeks combined.”

Roy swallowed again, this time for decidedly different reasons. He had known that Edward was a highly intelligent person, but he had underestimated how perceptive he proved to be. 

“Would you like to know more?” he asked.

“Of course,” Edward replied without hesitation. “I’m telling you shit about myself all the time. And I’d like to know more about you, you know.”

For a moment, he was at a loss of words. 

Then he tried not to startle when he felt Edward’s hand - the one made of flesh and blood - on his own, gently linking their fingers on the ivory keys. A few notes escaped the instrument, much as Roy’s heart tried to escape the confines of his ribcage. There were a lot of things he could have said. There even were a lot of things he could have done, for example either pushing Edward away to save them both from heartbreak or pulling him closer to rip moan after moan from his lips while he had him there on the parlor rug. 

Instead he said, “I really am, you know. A bastard, I mean.”

Edward’s fingers twitched in clear startlement. “What the fuck?”

Roy shrugged. “My mother was a Xingese prostitute,” he said. “She was fortunate enough that my father fell maddeningly in love with her and had a sense of honor, I suppose. Otherwise I would have probably been her ruin.”

“Shit,” Edward said.

“Well, yes,” Roy agreed. “She died when I was quite young. My father took me in and raised me as his heir, and when he died a few years later, his sister took care of me. I’m not ashamed of it, but the world sometimes lets me think I should be, so I don’t talk about it much. You’re one of four people who know about it now.”

“Oh,” Edward said very softly. He was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you miss her sometimes?”

And it was an understandable question baring Edward’s own heart since it carried with it all the unspoken grief for a mother that had been lost in an age where she had already made so much impact. Roy ached for him in a quiet, desperate way. 

“I can’t remember her very well, that makes it easier,” he said very gently. “But my lot was a stupidly fortunate one. In most other cases I would have led a very miserable life with little perspective. Immigrants and their children don’t hold much status in Amestris, and their rights are frankly lacking in all aspects. If my father had not officially acknowledged me, I wouldn’t have even gotten an Amestrian citizenship. There is not much work immigrants are allowed to do and most of them barely get by in frightening environmental circumstances. Working conditions for the lower classes are a joke in general. There are nowhere enough safety measures in factories, hygiene standards are incredibly low and thus creating massive health problems for all citizens, and don’t get me started on the living situation. It’s no wonder people are so easily motivated to enlist, you know. The military provides a stable income, a modest amount of respectability, hygiene and health regulations, somewhat decent pensions, and compensations in case you die during active duty, which is more than most jobs have going for them. Those are perspectives that, along with a well-oiled propaganda machine, make a lot of people forget the horror and the guilt and the pain that comes with war. But there is nothing glorious about being a soldier or war itself, and we should try to make life better for everyone to give them options, alternatives. Happiness. Most people come back from the frontiers damaged in body or soul, sometimes both. It’s just … it’s not necessary. It shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Is that why you’re doing all the …?” 

“The meetings? The social gatherings? The thinking?”

“I wanted to say ‘the schmoozing’, but that’ll do, I guess.”

Roy smiled a little. “Yes. That’s basically why.” 

“And that’s also why you married me,” Edward said. There was something in his voice that Roy could not decipher, and it made him uneasy.

“Well, yes,” he said slowly and carefully. Somehow he thought that it was not what Edward wanted to hear - but he had asked and Roy had never lied or held back about that part of his motivations. “I think it’s absurd to define one life as more valuable than the other by constructing social classes when we all die and bleed the same. But that’s the rules of this game, and I have to abide by them until I reach a position where I can change them.”

Edward was quiet for a long while. It was startling; he was this crackling burst of energy all the time, this loud, demanding presence that caught all of Roy’s senses. But now he was very still, and Roy could do nothing but concentrate on the feel of his fingers on his own.

“That’s - pretty amazing,” he finally said and though he sounded sincere, Roy could not help but detect a note of deep sadness in his voice. He could not wrap his head around it, but his heart stuttered in his chest like the last breaths of a dying creature. “That’s - yeah. I’m glad I could help, I guess. Can still help, even. If you’d like me to.”

“Edward,” Roy began and did not even know what he wanted to say. _Stay_ , perhaps. _Let me comfort you. Let me make it better. I can’t offer you much, but I can offer you this._

“Well, that was great,” Edward said and spoke a little too fast. His fingers slipped from Roy’s and the loss felt inexplicably keen to him. Again Roy wanted to tell him to stay when he slid off the bench, taking all the muted shadows of red and gold with him. “I think I’ll try to sleep now. Will you - will you come with me?”

But his voice sounded as if he did not really expect it - did not even really want it, and there was heartbreak in his tone that echoed Roy’s own in a confusing, shattering way. He opened his mouth and did not know what to say. 

It was a moment too much. “Alright then. I’ll leave you to it.”

Roy wanted to give him everything. But there was pain he did not understand and Edward was already moving away from him with a sigh - and Roy let him, unable to move, unable to grab him and pull him closer, hold him tight. Fear was strangling him so hard he found it difficult to breathe. For all that he had done in his life so far, he was still a coward at core.

“Good night,” Edward said quietly, and it sounded like a farewell.

“Good night,” Roy replied and, finger still splayed on the ivory keys, listened to his footsteps until they, too, were gone. He was alone. He was alone, and music was unable to soothe him, and he wanted to go back in time to the moment mere minutes before when he had felt strangely elated and warm with Edward at his side.

 _Oh dear_ , he realized with quiet despair. _Riza was right. She was right, and I am in love with him, too._


	5. The Night Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God this is a monster of a chapter (more than 7k), but there you go. Apologies for the delay! Have an entire chapter of "Edward stumbles from one crisis into the other and regularly flings himself dramatically into rose gardens."
> 
> The [playlist for this chapter](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJBit0CNBHD9G5gPW5V4QTn5FdpTUWK-B) starts with _Frühling In Paris Piano Version_ by Rammstein (don't look at me like that), then moves to _Domestic Pressures_ from the Theory Of Everything OST, _Memories of Edward_ from the Twilight OST (I said stop looking at me like that), _Ethan's Waltz_ from the Penny Dreadful OST and then finally we've got all three parts of Max Richter's take on Vivaldi's _Summer_ (from _The Four Seasons_ obviously), because if there is something that screams Edward in emotional distress it's Vivaldi's Summer.

Edward did not cry himself to sleep for days after his nightly endeavour with Roy because he was not one of the protagonists in Alphonse’s stupid romance novels. But he found that he had a hard time accepting that his husband really had only married him to push his career. A career with noble goals, even, so that Edward felt like an asshole for being mad at him, which was just unfair on very many levels. And it confirmed his belief that all of this was so miserable because Roy could not marry the person he really loved. It just made so much sense that Roy could not simply be with Miss Hawkeye officially, not if he wanted to gain social standing in order to achieve his goal. Miss Hawkeye was as courteous as one could be, but she was not a noble, and that made all the difference in this case. Thinking of how things would be if she were caused Edward’s intestines to curl and bite like a heap of snakes. 

So maybe he went on several long walks. Maybe he punched a few things and blew other things up until Miss Hawkeye entered his lab and threatened quite firmly with bodily harm should he cause the house to explode. Maybe he found reasons to sleep back in the house he had grown up in for three consecutive nights, curling up next to Alphonse for comfort. He was coping. It was fine.

Except that Roy did not seem pleased with his frequent absences, and that threw everything in a loop. 

When he walked into the house on the fourth day, the man almost cornered him in the twilight of the hallway. From the corner of his eyes, Edward could see Miss Hawkeye linger in the parlor and it made his guts churn a little. 

“Edward,” he said, “is your brother alright?”

And that gave Edward considerable pause. He stared at Roy, who stared back in a way that told Edward exactly nothing.

“He is - fine,” he said slowly. “Well, the nerve damage is troubling him this week, but it’s not … it’s the weather. He’s been worse.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Roy said, hesitated for a moment and then added, “I was afraid he might be quite unwell, considering the fact that you spent so much time away from here the last days, so I wanted to ask if there is anything I could assist you with to make it easier.”

_ Why can’t you be in love with me, you fucking asshole _ , Edward thought so fiercely and angrily in Roy’s direction that his teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching them. The way he honestly sounded as if he cared for Edward’s brother - the way he probably  _ did  _ really care - was just not fair. 

“I don’t think you can,” he replied more waspishly than intended. 

There was hurt on Roy’s face, only visible for a few seconds before that goddamn mask of neutrality was back at its place. But Edward had become better at reading him. He saw the cracks now, and underneath it, something flickered. For a moment he hoped that Roy would say something; would insult him, perhaps, berate him for his impoliteness. It would have been understandable. It would have been fair. Instead, Roy merely exhaled sharply and nodded. 

“Alright, then,” he said. “Just tell me if something-“

“Just quit it, goddamn it,” Edward ground out. He thought of Miss Hawkeye in the parlor and Roy’s bland politeness and the way he had denied him that night by hesitating so fucking long it had felt like a slap in the face. Suddenly he could not take it anymore. He brushed past Roy, ignored his calls and flung himself outside, crossing the lawn and diving into the rose garden that had started to get into full bloom. 

The smell was everywhere. It was almost cloying, too much, but Edward rode right along that border of getting overwhelmed. His chest was tight. He could not breathe and it had nothing to do with the heavy, sweet smell lingering in the air. Gasping, eyes burning and blurry with tears, he hid in one of the rose-covered alcoves, curled up on the bench there and brought his knees to his chest to hide - in the garden, in the roses, in himself. The anger and sadness and humiliation he felt were too much. 

Edward was well aware that he was damaged goods; that he was not whole and, on top of that, had never really been good at holding back in any way. There were marks on his body and marks on his soul, and he had always been a little too angry, too hot-headed, too harsh around the edges. But that night he had really thought that there was a connection. That Roy had wanted to tell him something with that song, that there was meaning in the way he had opened up about himself and the way their hands had entangled. Foolish. Utterly foolish. And there was no escape from it. In a way it was worse that Roy still tried to be nice and accommodating. Had he been brusque and downright turned him down with disinterest, it would have been easier. Anger Edward was quite familiar with. The pain he felt now was something he had never wished to feel. 

It did not matter. He allowed himself a few more moments of despair. Then he pulled himself up, wiped his face and re-tied his hair and got up. There was no way to move but forward. He would get over this eventually. It would just take a little time. But Roy was not at home that much anyway, and there were ways to avoid him. 

He became masterful in doing so. 

There was always something to do. Al needed him, no matter that his medical treatment was so much better now and allowed him proper medication for the nerve sickness that caused him spasms and pain in regular intervals because something in his body was so wrongly wired that he often experienced dangerous sensory overload. And even during good phases, his brother was still the person he loved most on this earth. So he spent a lot of time with him, visiting Winry and Granny regularly and browsing through the Elric library. 

Unfortunately, his father apparently had too much free time on his hands because he decided to meddle in affairs that did not have anything to do with him at all. 

“You know we are happy to have you,” he told Edward one day, catching him defenseless in the library and looking at him over the rim of his glasses with the expression of a kicked puppy. “But is everything alright with you and Roy?”

“Fuck you,” Edward murmured. “And fuck him.”

“Ah,” Father said and nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, I am not overly fond of homicide, but if he has behaved in any disrespectful or shameful way, then needs must be.”

Edward blinked. Then he stared. His father stared back quite gravely. “Are you s- you know what, never mind. Don’t kill the asshole, just leave me alone.” 

“I don’t want you to be unhappy.” The puppy expression turned distressed.

Edward resisted the strong urge to kick him and ground out, “Well, tough shit. Feel free to kick the bucket in distress or something.”

“I’ll see your mother again eventually, but not as long as you and Alphonse need a parent,” his father said. “She and I agreed on that.”

And that tied Edward’s tongue very effectively into knots. He stared at the row of books in front of him and wondered if all of this would go away if he simply did not move at all. When he felt Hohenheim’s hand on his left shoulder, he twitched with surprise, yet somehow did not slap it away. His father did not say anything and Edward could not bring himself to simply spill all of the unnecessary drama, not to him. So they just stood there, and Hohenheim’s hand was warm and broad and just  _ there _ , and suddenly Edward missed his mother so violently and fiercely that it felt like a hole being torn in his ribcage. He knew his father was trying, but their relationship was strained and damaged by years of misunderstanding and grief. Perhaps they would never be able to properly communicate. But still Edward stayed and Hohenheim did as well, and they managed to be quiet together for a while. 

His brother was a little more helpful and yet at the same time not helpful at all. Edward pretty much regretted telling him everything that had happened over the last weeks, down to the last details. 

“You can’t stay here forever, brother,” Alphonse said reasonably. “Go home and sort it out.”

“That’s what you said the last time, too,” Edward replied, bristling. “And then I followed your stupid advice and it didn’t do anything, so maybe I should just stop listening to you altogether!”

“You would never,” Al said mildly. “So you tried the subtle seduction - to be fair, we probably should have seen coming that that’s not your forte.”

“Excuse me? I did an amazing job!” Unfortunately everyone except the person said job had been intended for had noticed that. Worst of all was probably the way Miss Hawkeye had complimented him on his appearance. There was something pretty humiliating about that, so humiliating, in fact, that Edward did not even want to think about it. 

Alphonse patted his hand, then allowed him to gently help him reposition himself in the cushions. He looked a little exhausted, but he was on his way to recuperation already and so Edward tried not to fret too much. 

“Well, anyway, that didn’t work,” Al continued pragmatically. “So you really have to just tell him.”

“I won’t,” Edward said stubbornly. “You weren’t there. It was clearly a rejection and I won’t run after him.” When Al opened his mouth, he said, “Let it go, okay? Just - it could be a lot worse. Let’s just go with that. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, brother,” Alphonse said very softly after a long pause and strangely enough, that was what made Edward’s throat tight. He looked at their entangled hands and breathed, and tried to remind himself that this was the only connection he really, truly needed.

***

But Alphonse could not, should not be there for him all the time. That was fine. But it still sucked when Edward could feel an approaching change in the weather, causing the damaged tissue around his automails to ache like crazy. 

It was manageable the first day, although he was grouchy and holed himself away. 

The second day, he threw up first thing in the morning and barely made it back to bed. He did not even think about dressing and going down for breakfast. Instead, he managed some light sleep, only waking up a while later disoriented and confused. He could hear voices, hushed and quiet. Someone had drawn the curtains so that the bedroom was diffused in shadows.

“What is wrong with him?” Roy. Edward squinted his eyes and tried to breathe. But the pain caused him to moan, and the moan drew both Roy and Miss Hawkeye into the room. 

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

“You’re clearly not fine,” Roy snapped, sounding more agitated than Edward had ever witnessed him. “Riza-”

Edward flinched away from Miss Hawkeye’s touch when she tried to put a hand on his forehead, then let out a pained moan when the sudden movement caused something in his shoulder to cramp up even more. 

“Leave me alone,” he ground out. “It’s just the fucking change of weather-”

“Oh God, you’re in pain,” Roy said, sounding pained himself, and okay, Edward got it, it was a nuisance having an invalid husband, but it still stung, and he just had enough.

“Nothing I can’t handle, so just kindly fuck off,” he snapped. 

“We could draw him a bath,” Miss Hawkeye said. “Will warmth help you, Edward?”

Edward considered biting her hand for a wild, pained moment, but the mental image of a warm bath let him hesitate before he groaned, “Yeah. That helps.”

Miss Hawkeye straightened. “I’ll get Rebecca. Sir-”

“I’ll stay with him,” Roy said. “Just go, quickly.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’m not a fucking child and this is not my first dance,” Edward hissed while Miss Hawkeye swiftly exited the bedroom. His head pulsated with an insane migraine in the rhythm of the pain pulsating through his arm and leg. He wanted to cry. He wanted the storm to just break. He wanted Roy to go away. 

Instead, Roy very carefully sat down at the edge of the bed and clenched his hands in his lap, eyes darting frantically over Edward’s form and the bed. “Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

“I’ll barf over everything you own,” Edward groaned.

“Granted, there are more charming things than that,” Roy said. “But-”

“Just leave me alone. Why the fuck aren’t you on your way to work?”

Roy blinked. “I am worried.”

Edward panted. He was not even sure whether it was due to the pain or the fact that his husband, who had married him for the sake of achieving his goal and worked tirelessly to get there, had apparently decided to stay home because he was worried. About Edward. The entire thing was so confusing and infuriating that coupled together with the physical strain he was under, it was simply too much. Something inside of him snapped.

“I don’t need your goddamn pity!” he bellowed. 

“Goddamn it, Edward, it’s not pity, I’m simply worried about you!” Roy replied tersely, voice rising a little as well. “As your husband-”

“Fuck that!” Edward yelled. “And fuck you! You’re not my family, you’re not my husband, you’re not even my friend, I don’t need any of this shit you’re doing right now - I don’t need your help or your worry, and if this is you feeling uncomfortable because you married a cripple and are now discovering your inner saint, you can go suck my-”

“Are you fucking serious?” Roy yelled back, and hearing him curse was enough to give Edward a few seconds of pause. Belatedly, it occurred to him that this was their first real fight and it was about as pleasant as expected. That did not deter Roy from heatedly continuing, “I’m certainly not a saint, but I do care about you and we’re living together, so no matter what you think of this marriage or of me, I’ll try to help you, complete and utter brat, and I don’t give a shit whether you like it or not!”

“You can’t make me!” Edward roared. 

“The tub is ready,” Miss Hawkeye said very calmly from the entrance door. 

For a moment, Roy and Edward merely breathed heavily and with great agitation. Then Edward flung away the blanket with his left hand and tried to get up, gritting his teeth when the pain became unbearable. But there was nothing to be done. When he tried to get up on his feet, his nerves lit up with so much raw, frayed hurt that he let out a sharp gasp and tumbled back. His eyes were quickly watering and he sniffed once, twice, overwhelmed with pain and humiliation and shame. His head was swimming. He could not do anything - could not think, could not move, could not see, could not even feel. 

For a while, everything simply blurred into a swirl of nothingness. There was some jostling that made him howl, then he was lifted up and he howled even more, simply succumbing to the darkness that had waited for a chance to claim him.

When he came into awareness again, he was in their generous tub, submerged in perfectly tempered water and at least five inches of foam up to his nose. Soft darkness again; only a few candles cast their light over the marble and Edward’s skin, spreading a soothing smell of lavender. He closed his eyes and breathed, breathed, breathed. The pain was a dull throbbing, still there and still hard on him, but the water helped. 

Miss Hawkeye stuck her head through the door and, upon discovering that he was awake, sent him a small, warm smile that suspiciously looked like relief. 

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked softly.

“Ask him whether he needs anything,” a second voice from behind her murmured.

Miss Hawkeye’s lips twitched. “Do you need anything, Edward?”

“Tell him he’s pathetic,” Edward said.

“You’re pathetic, sir,” Miss Hawkeye said over her shoulder without even batting an eyelash before she sighed very heavily. “Edward, is there any medication you would like me to get you?”

Edward hesitated a little before he nodded. “Uhm, I’ve got some in the desk in my lab. Second right drawer, it’s a small brown bottle. It’s the only brown bottle in there, so you should be fine.”

“Very well, I’ll go get it for you.” 

As soon as she was gone, Roy slipped into the room. He moved very slowly and gingerly across the floor, and Edward was too exhausted by that point to be embarrassed or angry. He could barely keep his eyes open and so he did not, focusing on breathing steadily and regularly instead. Still, he flinched and made a small noise when Roy’s fingers found his hair and the man lowered himself on the floor next to his head.

“I’d like to apologize,” Roy said very softly after a moment. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

There were, perhaps, a lot of things Edward should have felt or said about the situation they were in. But everything hurt and he was so tired, and it was so nice having Roy’s fingers card gently through his hair. He kept his eyes closed and tipped his head a little more towards his husband, for once grateful for the pain that swallowed all potential mortification or worry. 

“Yelled at you first,” he mumbled.

“Yes, but you are suffering,” Roy said, still so very gently. “I truly am sorry. I wish I could do more to make it easier for you. You didn’t tell me it could be so bad.”

“Not exactly material for a dinner conversation,” Edward murmured.

Roy sighed very deeply. “Edward,” he began, then faltered. But his hand was still in Edward’s hair and after a moment his head bent lower until his breath ghosted over Edward’s cheek. They were so close. They were so close, and Edward did not dare open his eyes in fear that everything would burst like a bubble if he did. So he just listened and breathed and felt.

After a moment, Roy asked very quietly, “Edward - surely you do not really think that I do not care for you? Surely you don’t think that I would never think worse of you because you are in pain or because of your lost limbs? After all, you must see …” He swallowed audibly, and Edward did as well. “Surely you must see how-”

“I’ve brought the medication and some water,” Miss Hawkeye said from the doorway. Then, “Oh. Should I come back later?”

Edward resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall, especially when Roy quickly disentangled his hand from Edward’s hair. 

“No, no,” his husband said quickly. “This is more important. Edward, how many of them…?”

Edward sighed again and simply gave up instead of gathering his last strength and throttling the life - and answers to what Roy had wanted to tell him - out of the useless bastard. At least there was something very nice about the way Roy coddled him for the rest of the evening, and the medication let him sleep deeply during the night.

When he woke up the following morning, he found that Roy had curled up tightly against his back. 

***

A day later, the storm finally broke and Edward could breathe again. 

“You seem better,” Roy remarked after Edward had come down for breakfast and eaten heartily, smiling when Edward made an affirmative noise. They were seated in the parlor since it was still windy and rainy outside. “I’m glad.” He hesitated for a moment before he added, “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

Edward lifted his head. There had been a strange sort of tension since their bathroom conversation and it made him strangely uneasy. They were closer now, he could feel it, but that did not change the fact that Roy was still holding something back and he just did not understand why. 

“Sure,” he replied. Maybe that was it. Maybe Roy would finally open up and-

“I am invited to a ball at the Armstrong estate this Friday,” Roy said. “Ah, that is,  _ we  _ are invited. And I was wondering if you would perhaps like to accompany me.”

Edward paused and stared at him. It was the first time that Roy asked him to accompany him to a social gathering and he did not know what to make of it. “You wanna go with me?”

“Well, yes,” Roy replied with a faint smile that caused Edward’s heartbeat to stutter for a moment. “You’re my husband.”

“You’ve always gone alone.” With Miss Hawkeye in tow, that was.

Roy’s smile dimmed a little, although he visibly tried to cling onto it. He hummed and looked at the table before releasing a breath. “Perhaps I’m tired of dancing on my own.”

Edward bit his lip. Was this flirting? Was Roy insinuating that he-? God, he was absolutely shit at this. “I’m not exactly super suave and shit.”

Roy looked as if he had to suppress a laughter. “I know you aren’t.” He paused, then added a little softer, “You don’t have to. I just - I wanted to ask.”

“Yeah,” Edward said before he could change his mind. “Let’s do it. I’ll come with you.”

Roy’s eyes crinkled a little at the corners when he smiled, and he was lovely, so lovely. Edward could not find it in himself to regret his decision, even though balls tended to make him feel even more awkward than social events like dinners. With dinners, the focus at least was with food, but with balls the focus was on dancing and exchanging nondescript pleasantries with people he did not care about, and both things were not exactly his forte. But he dressed himself appropriately: A tailcoat made from red velvet with shining, golden buttons, a white shirt and waistcoat paired with the necessary white bowtie, white gloves, black pants and freshly-brushed black shoes. 

While he was fumbling with his hair and sighing a great deal about it, Miss Hawkeye slipped into the room and went right to Roy’s closet to gather a few things. That did not ease the fumbling even for a bit, although he studiously tried to ignore her presence. He knew that he was awkward around her, but he could not help it. Technically, it had to be worse for her. Roy had been hers alone for a long while before Edward came into the picture and now she had to live with him under one roof, watching him spend time with Roy in a way she would never be able to. It had to be frustrating and upsetting, and the entire thing was such a tangled mess that Edward wanted to tell her that perhaps they could come to some sort of agreement, yet never seemed to find the right words. 

He was distracted from his thoughts when Miss Hawkeye cleared her throat.

“May I help you?” she offered to his great surprise. 

“Uh … sure, yeah, that would be great,” he said automatically, then sent her a rueful smile and gestured toward the diamond pins he had rather unsuccessfully attempted to put into his hair. “The automail hand is a little clumsy for sh- things like that.”

“I understand,” she replied, and it was one of the weirdest moments in Edward’s entire life when she proceeded to very carefully pin his hair into the right style. As soon as she was done, they both looked critically at her handiwork.

“Very nice,” she finally concluded. “You make a dashing appearance, Edward. May I suggest a hint of aftershave? The general usually appreciates it when you wear some of it.“

Edward could feel his face heat up. There was something humiliating in getting advice on how to flirt with his husband by the woman said husband loved. Perhaps the worst thing was that she seemed sincere - so sincere, in fact, that he could not find it in him to turn down her suggestion. Only after he had followed it, he noticed that Miss Hawkeye wore a dress - subdued colors, simple cut, but nevertheless noticeably a ball gown made from very fine fabric. She was very pretty, even more so than usual, and she looked a little softer, more approachable. Edward was pretty sure that she had at least two guns strapped to her body somewhere, however.

“You look nice,“ he offered awkwardly, to which she smiled briefly. “I didn‘t know you‘d tag along since I‘ll go with him.“

As soon as the words had left his mouth he winced a little at their harshness. But Miss Hawkeye did not bat an eyelash. She merely hummed and said, “The general believes it is best that I accompany both of you in case anything goes wrong.“

“I see,“ said Edward, who didn‘t.

But she was gone with Roy‘s clothes before he could ask another thing and he saw her disappear in the bathroom. An ugly thing rose and strangled his throat until he could breathe. It took him a moment to realize that it was jealousy, and the jealousy rose into something monstrous and horrible, something hurt and anxious when Roy found him in the hallway downstairs him fifteen minutes later and looked so dashing in his midnight-blue tailcoat that Edward wanted to bite his throat and leave a row of hickeys on his perfect skin right then and there. 

He waited for a compliment, but it never came, although Roy did offer him his arm with a smile. Edward latched onto it, grimly determined to hang there for the rest of the evening even if it killed him. His asshole of a husband could not decide whether he wanted him more than his assistant or not? Edward would make it as hard for him as possible just out of pure spite by this point. 

The weather certainly did nothing to help his general mood. Rain was coming, he could feel it in the scars around his automails and see it in the cloudy night that waited for them when they stepped out of the house. Fortunately, a carriage stood ready right in front of the door, so they did not have to dwell outside for very long. They climbed into it, he and Roy and Miss Hawkeye, and the ride was awkward, at least for Edward. What Miss Hawkeye thought, he could not say, and his husband had a permanent frown on his face that managed to rile Edward up even more.

“Stop looking like that,“ he snapped at some point, to which Roy‘s head rose sharply. “If you regret taking me with you-“

“I don‘t,“ Roy said.

“Well, then why the heck are you looking like that?“

Roy sighed very deeply. “It just occurred to me that I never made it clear to you that I don‘t really dance.“

“What? But you said you‘re tired of dancing on your own!“

“It‘s a metaphor, Edward.“

“I hate you,“ Edward declared. “And I hate metaphors.” 

Roy’s lips twitched as if he barely suppressed a laugh, which eased something in Edward and made him even more furious at the same time. Complicated, opaque man. At times Edward fervently wished that he would not like him so much, and that he did not find himself so often thinking back to how very gently Roy had touched his hair that night he had been in so much pain. There had been no fitting moment to ask what Roy had wanted to tell him and now Edward regretted that he had not simply created one. He wanted to know; he wanted to feel him again, more of him, wanted to see and understand everything, everything. The longing inside him was a barely restrained beast that wished to be unleashed. 

And still he held back: Because he was better than this, because he respected Roy and Miss Hawkeye, because he was afraid, because he could feel the upcoming rain and everything unsaid press down on him enough to make him mute. At that very moment, he hated a lot of things: His father, Roy, the entire situation, and most of all his own foolish heart. 

Feelings, he fervently decided, were the worst. 

The Armstrong estate was as lavish as one could expect. Rosewood Hall was perfect for balls, galas and dinners, and the luscious rose vines on the exterior façade gave off waves of sweet scent. The estate was surrounded by a sweeping terrace over which rows of colorful paper lanterns had been strung this evening, casting a bright, warm light across the marble floor. They had to cross the magnificent garden that surrounded the estate to get to the terrace. Even in the garden, the paths had been illuminated with huge jars full of candles as thick as their arms. Cheerful fairy lights swayed in the rose bushes, and where seating had not been set up on the perfectly trimmed lawns, torches and huge iron containers stood waiting to be lit with warming fires when the night threatened to turn chilly. What the upcoming rain would do to them he did not know, but for now there were only clouds and the intended atmosphere remained uninterrupted. 

“It’s going to rain,” Miss Hawkeye still remarked as she hopped out of the carriage and helped first Roy, then Edward out of it. 

“I know, I can smell it,” Roy replied, which was an odd thing to say even for him, but before Edward could remark on it Roy had offered him his arm and Edward clung to it. He noticed that Roy walked unusually carefully as they made their way to the enormous stairway leading up to the entrance. 

“Are you alright?” Edward could not help but ask.   
Roy smiled quickly and dishonestly. “Yes. Those shoes are not very skidproof, that’s all.”

“Why did you put them on, then?”

“They match the outfit.”

“That won’t help you one bit if you slip and fall flat on your-”

“Good evening,” the servant next to the entrance said and looked a little bemused at their bickering. “Welcome to Rosewood Hall. Whom may I announce?”

“Brigadier General Roy Elric and Lord Edward Elric, in company of personal adjutant Riza Hawkeye,” Roy replied smoothly, slipping into a more polished version of himself so quickly that it almost gave Edward whiplash and caused the servant to take their coats, bow and step aside to let them enter. There it was, the mask Edward despised. It swallowed everything and left him with someone who was bordering on being an asshole, unreadable, unknowable, untouchable. He found it quite fitting that it thundered behind them as they entered.

The ball was just like every other ball Edward had been forced to attend in his life. What he liked most about it was the food that came in quantities of the best quality. The rest of it he did not care much about. It was always the same kind of people milling around at these kinds of events. A lot of them Edward had known since his childhood, could talk at length about their bloodlines and the way they crossed other bloodlines by marriage. He knew their political stances, a lot of their little scandals, their homes, their children, their life partners and their wealth (or absence of it). Edward did not care about politics and had no interest in a political career at all, but that did not mean that he did not listen and learn and know. It had been essential to know after his mother had died. Hohenheim had made sure that he was aware of which families meant trouble and which families were safe, and who had alliances or feuds with whom. He often was abrasive and impatient merely because he found the entire social gamble petty and dishonest, not because he did not know how to play in times where he had to.

Roy, however, was a goddamn shark on the social dance floor, and Edward was pretty sure that at least a part of him liked it. 

It was the first time truly experiencing him along with Miss Hawkeye in action, and Edward had to admit that it was a little impressive. And yet: The way he and Miss Hawkeye worked so smoothly together - the way she always murmured into his ear who approached them at the right time, standing very closely next to him and touching his arm every now and then in ways that seemed strangely significant, how she knew every single one of his appointments and whereabouts and seemingly had catalogued all of his routes and meetings ... It made Edward increasingly feel as if he did not belong here. As if there was no reason at all for him to be here - worse, even: that there was no place for him here, not really, and that perhaps Roy had only taken him with him to show him what he could not tell him. Roy laughed and flattered and paid compliments to everyone reaching out to him, conversing and flirting and smiling at everyone except Edward. Yes, he always introduced him when people did not know who he was, did not let go of him, remained at his side. But his attention was elsewhere, his easy smiles and sharp focus, and he would not dance with Edward, would not even consider it.

It was humiliating.

It was humiliating, and it caused something in Edward’s chest to crack although he tried his best not to give in to the feeling. But he was tired, he was tired of feeling this way, tired of feeling broken and cracked and alone, and at that very moment he despised Roy for making him feel that way even more than usual. He did not want to break, not here and not in front of eyes that would not show him mercy, and so he did not. But something cracked and the splinters lodged, and he bled. It was enough.

“Where are you going?” Roy asked when Edward let go of him.

“As if you’d care,” Edward said and it felt as if one of the splinters loosened only to dig itself deeper into another part of his skin.

“What do you mean?” Roy asked, a frown on his face. They were in one of the hallways, passing through the guests and with Miss Hawkeye always, always on their heels. “Is everything alright? Do you need-”

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” Edward said and it was true, it was true, but his heart was weeping blood through the cracks in it and his tongue was heavy with the weight of it. “I don’t - you don’t need me here. I get it, you know. I get it. I’ll never fit into this fancy little life you’ve built for yourself, or at your side, and you didn’t have to bring me here to make it clear. I get it. You don’t want me, you don’t need me, and I was just - God, I was just a fucking idiot for believing that maybe you like me despite all my … deficiencies.”

“What do you - Edward.” Roy seemed honestly agitated at that and grabbed his arm again. “We’ve been over this, stop being ridiculous. You don’t have a single deficiency, you’re perfect - it rather - it’s me who-”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Edward snapped, suddenly furious because fury was better than pain, always. “We’ve played that game for too long now, Roy, I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve tried, really, I did. I thought that maybe you liked me the way I like you, but you don’t. I know - you’re nice and shit because that’s just how you are, but I’m just … I can’t do this anymore.” He threw a glance at Miss Hawkeye who looked almost stunned, then drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got in your and Miss Hawkeye’s way, and I’m sorry you had to marry me. But really, go fuck yourself. All of this could have been avoided if you’d just been honest with me right from the start. I would’ve been content to simply be your friend, I guess, but I can’t do that anymore and it’s your fucking fault. And I’m not your toy, and I won’t let you play with me like one. We can’t go on like this.  _ I _ can’t.”

He did not wait for a reply. He just could not bear it. So he yanked himself free, turned on his heels and stormed outside, throwing himself through the doors and into the night.

Warm summer rain welcomed him, and it was such a fitting thing that he could not help but sob angrily at the unfairness of it all. Edward did not even look where he went; he just ran, and the rain and wind tore at him, and he let them. He let them come, offering himself to the forces of nature, fervently wishing for lightning to simply take him out and erase all of it, the pain and the heartache and the way he could not help but buckle and, finally, break, slumping down on one of the countless benches in the gardens of Rosewood Hall. Not for the first time since his marriage had started, Edward wished his mother were here. 

He did not know how long he sat there and cried angry tears, but suddenly there was Miss Hawkeye in front of him, windswept and illuminated by the dangerously swaying fairy lights that cast heavy, moving shadows over her figure. She sat down next to him despite the rain that quickly drenched her, as well as ruined her hair and dress.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you,” she breathed out and Edward was too startled by the stark relief etched into the lines of her face to protest when she took his flesh hand into her own and squeezed a little too tightly. “We’ve been so worried.”   
“Shut up,” Edward replied more testily than he felt. He wiped his face, even though it did not matter much, but Miss Hawkeye continued to cling to his hand.

“Edward,” she said and finally there was a familiar note of steel in her voice. “Please listen to me. You don’t have to - you don’t have to do anything - but seeing you hurt is hurting me in turn, so I’d like to try and explain if you let me.”

Edward sniffed. “You don’t have to pretend you like me. It’s fine.”

“You’re right, I don’t have to pretend because I  _ do  _ like you,” Miss Hawkeye said firmly. “And let me say this very clearly now: For one, your husband is an idiot. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t have to do his work now. And for another, he and I are not in love.” 

Edward stared at her. “But -” He shook his head. “You’re always there. You know everything. You’re constantly at his side and I know - I mean I can see it. He trusts you like nobody else. Way, way more than me.”

This time Miss Hawkeye made a highly frustrated, unhappy noise. “Well, that just shows that I’m right with what I’ve just said. Your husband is an idiot, but even more than that he is stupidly proud. All of this mess … Well, there is no way around it. I’ve supported him in this idiocy for long enough. Someone has to tell you. It’s just not fair.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. Then her grip on his hand got a little firmer.

“Edward,” she said, “Roy is nearly blind.” 

“What,” Edward said and stared at her.

“When you ran out here he immediately chased after you before I could get a grip on him, tripped over the stairs and managed to get completely lost because it is raining and because the terrain is unfamiliar to him,” Miss Hawkeye said drily. “I had to put him on a bench where he is soaking right now because he is even more useless in rain than usual. He relies on me to get through the day without people noticing that he doesn’t see much anymore. We’ve done this for years, and we’ve known each other for even longer than that.” 

Edward continued to stare at her.

She smiled briefly and warmly. “It is true that we love each other very much, but not in the way you think, and not in the way you and Roy might come to love each other. Well, if he hasn’t botched any chances by putting his fear and pride over your wellbeing and his infatuation, that is.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Edward asked at last. “He’s blind?”

“Nearly,” Miss Hawkeye said.

“He’s fucking blind,” Edward said, not caring for minor details, “and I didn’t realize it? And he didn’t say anything? And that’s the whole fucking problem? He’s not desperately in love with you and regrets his life choices?”

“I mean,” Miss Hawkeye said and looked as if she desperately tried not to laugh, “he probably does regret a lot of his life choices, but marrying you is not among them. And I hope for the sake of all of our sanity that he is not desperately in love with me. I certainly am not in love with him and never will be. However, I can assure you that he is most decidedly interested in being a good husband to you more than he already tried to be.” She sighed very deeply. “Please, I am begging you. Be the responsible one here and go talk this out with him. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh my God,” Edward said and could not believe that this was his life - that he was really sitting here in the fucking rain in his soaked tailcoat finding out that his proud idiot of a husband had literally not seen his advances for months now. Fuck. Briefly and slightly hysterically he wondered how to explain that story to Alphonse. Probably not at all, ever. It was simply too idiotic on so many levels. And yet, and yet: His heart fluttered against the ribs that caged it, trying to leap out of his chest like a bird that finally wanted to break out of its chains. Suddenly everything made sense: That Roy never looked at him directly, that he never commented on Edward’s appearance, that he had such a hard time adjusting to any changes in his house, that he could not eat spaghetti in a dignified manner even if he tried very hard, that Miss Hawkeye read the newspaper to him in the morning. He had been so good at hiding it, holding himself back, avoiding any possibility to appear vulnerable. It had to take so much effort; Roy had to be constantly exhausted. And still, and still: He listened and talked to Edward, took care of him, bought him books, let him rearrange the furniture and make food that was not very suited to his needs, tried to help him as best as he could when he was in pain, asked after the wellbeing of his brother and never demanded anything, never said anything. 

_ Oh my fucking God _ , he thought, heart leaping into his throat,  _ he loves me. He loves me. _

“Well, fine,” he said aloud, took a deep breath and gathered his courage and wits to leap onto his feet. “Take me to him, then. I’ll talk to him.”


	6. In Dawn's Gentle Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!! Thank you all for your lovely support, I am very touched for all the positive reviews I got. <3
> 
> A bit of a **warning** : There is **sex** between two consenting adults in this chapter, so if that's not your tea, just stop reading at the ***. And the sex is more romantic than hot, I'm afraid, but that's just what it is.
> 
> As usual, we've got the playlist [here](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJBit0CNBHD9G5gPW5V4QTn5FdpTUWK-B), starting with _An Ending, A Beginning_ by Dustin O'Halloran and ending with _Lovers_ by Carter Burwell from the _Carol_ OST because I just love that one too much.

The time Roy spent on the bench getting soaked by summer rain felt like repentance. 

There was a bruise forming on his hip from his rather undignified fall when he had rushed after Edward without thinking. Having to rely on Riza for helping him up and looking for Edward made him painfully aware of how insufficient he was as a husband - how little he could really do once he was stripped of his usual environment and routine. 

He did not know how long he sat on that bench and felt sorry for himself when he could hear familiar footsteps approach. The rain, even though by now it was merely some leftover droplets in the air, softened the sound somewhat, but it was unmistakable: Two sets of feet, one of them Riza’s forceful, even march and one of them Edward’s unique footfall. He could not help it: He tensed while his heartbeat picked up its rate as if he were on trial. In a way, he probably was. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Riza said. “I’ll get the carriage in the meantime.”

“Wait-” Roy began, but she was already gone and did not wait for him to finish his fumbling sentence. 

Instead, there was Edward sitting down heavily next to him. A flash of gold and red that bit into Roy’s strained sight, then he yelped in surprise when he was grabbed by his lapels and pulled closer.

“You fucking idiot,” Edward said, so close that Roy was sure he felt the warmth radiating from his face. His breath was like an indignant ghost on Roy’s cheeks when he continued, “You absolute moron. You imbecile.”

“Why thank you, you’re rather lovely tonight, too,” Roy snapped, immediately bristling, and freed himself from Edward’s grip. 

“As if you could tell!” Edward replied heatedly and Roy blinked, stunned, which apparently prompted him to say, “You couldn’t just tell me that you’re fucking blind? Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid I feel?”

For a moment Roy did not know what to say - did not even know whether to be relieved or not that apparently Riza had finally snapped and told him or that Edward had figured it out himself. He merely sat there, straining unsuccessfully to make out some details of Edward’s face, or at least his face in general, but as usual all visible reactions eluded him. But there were Edward’s hands, reaching for his lapels once more and doing it very carefully for a change, and there was his breath still on Roy’s skin. He was close enough that Roy only would have to reach out a little to put his palm on his chest and feel whether his heart was racing as much as his own. 

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Edward asked after a while, and he sounded genuinely hurt enough that it stung. “Did you honestly think I’d mind? Or that I’d think less of you? For fucks sake, I’ve got two artificial limbs and you’ve experienced me passing out like a complete wimp from pain.”

Roy found his voice again. “You’re not a wimp.”   
“And you’re absolutely missing the point.”

“I’ve lived like this for years now,” Roy said very softly. Edward breathed out very harshly yet said nothing, apparently waiting for Roy to continue, so he did. “Only my staff knows, and the Hughes family. I’ve built my life in a way that makes me as little dependent on other people as possible. It’s a weakness, this, a weakness that can be used against me.” 

“Not by me,” Edward said. “Just … why?”

He breathed out and closed his useless eyes. “I don’t know, Edward, I am sorry. It's a habit, and it’s … it’s … well. I did not want to burden you with a useless husband on top of everything else you had to deal with up until this point.” Roy swallowed thickly, but there was nothing to be done. The words spilled out of him like pearls springing from a broken necklace. “I wanted to be strong for you. Provide you with a comfortable life to … well, to make up for it.”

“To make up for what?”

“Well, that you had to marry me,” Roy said.

“Oh my God,” Edward groaned. “Are you fucking - are you for real? Okay.” He breathed in deeply. “Look.”

“That could prove a bit difficult,” Roy said, because he was nothing but antagonistic in the worst possible moments.

For a moment there was nothing but enraged silence before Edward huffed. “I can’t believe this. Now we’re starting with the awful jokes? Shut your mouth and listen to me.”

“Yes, dear,” Roy said.

“Ugh,” Edward said before he sucked in another deep breath. “Okay. It’s not a hardship, being married to you, okay. We both get something out of this and, I mean, now I know you can’t see it, but you’re pretty hot.”

Due to the entire, completely absurd situation, Roy felt a little hysterical. “You might even say I am-”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

“-easy on the eyes.”

“I swear to everything that’s holy, I’ll go and leave your sorry, useless ass here to rot. Let me finish, god damn it!” 

“Yes, dear,” Roy said.

He was pretty sure that Edward eyed him. “You like saying that, huh?”

“Yes.” With them both sitting here in the rain and drenched to their bones, their knees close enough that they brushed every now and then - and with Edward knowing about his sight -, it did not feel right to deny it any longer. 

Silence for a while. Then Edward asked almost shyly, all traces of his temper gone, “Because I’m dear to you?”

“Give me your hand,” Roy replied. When he felt Edward’s flesh-and-bone fingers slide into his own, he grasped them very gently and lifted them up a little until he could rest his lips and cheek on his wet skin, exposing his neck to Edward’s gaze and mercy. At that moment, it did not matter that he still did not feel worthy of Edward’s attention or interest. All that mattered was that he felt, and he felt very deeply. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “most ardently. And yes, you are very dear to me. I want to make you happy. I want to be worth your heart and your respect.”

“Oh,” Edward said, fingers and voice trembling, and then Roy felt himself get grabbed at the lapels before Edward hauled him closer.

It was not the most sophisticated kiss Roy had ever received. But it was genuine, and it was Edward, and sophistication sometimes did not matter that much anyway. He cradled his face in his hands, felt soft wisps of golden hair brush his skin as he gently, after a few close-mouthed pecks, coaxed Edward’s lips open. And oh, the sound he made at that; it vibrated in Roy’s bones. Edward’s fingers curled tightly into his lapels as he shifted closer, close enough that Roy could feel his hammering heartbeat against his own chest. He was warm. He was warm and he smelled like heaven, and Roy wanted nothing more than to take him apart and put him back together. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Edward whispered, his voice a mere hot breath on Roy’s cheek while he clung to him. 

“Yes, my dear,” Roy agreed.

***

According to Edward, Riza took a single look at them before she declared that she would wrap up some business and return home on her own at a later time, no need to wait for her. Roy could hear that his husband was embarrassed by the things her tone of voice implied, and as soon as the carriage doors had shut behind them, he did his best to distract Edward from it. 

It turned out that his task was not very difficult. He merely had to reach out and already found himself with his lap full of his husband before he was roped into another kiss. What a wonderful thing it was to no longer merely yearn, but touch and be touched in return. Edward trembled and Roy was not sure whether it was from excitement or inexperience, but his mouth was hot and hungry; he moaned when Roy dug his fingers into the fabric of his waistcoat and pulled him close, closer still as the carriage jostled them enough to bump into each other. Teeth clacking against his lips; Roy narrowly avoided the pain and slung an arm around Edward’s waist to steady them. For a moment they gasped for air, Edward’s breath a wild, erratic thing, then their mouths found each other again. 

It was clear that Edward had not kissed many people in his life so far, which was strangely endearing yet also did not matter much. Unsurprisingly, he was a quick learner and leaned into Roy’s gentle guidance with a scientific fervor that under other circumstances would have amused Roy quite a bit. Right now, however, he was too occupied with the sensations that flooded him to feel amusement. Edward’s attention was a fiery current, a lively thrum in his veins that ignited him. He wanted, he was allowed to want, Edward wanted him to. It was the sweetest thing, the loveliest thing in the entire world. 

“I’ve got you,” Edward whispered when they stumbled out of the carriage, and for a brief moment Roy wondered what they looked like - what Edward looked like after Roy had greedily carded his fingers through his hair, disheveling his careful braid and causing him to lose a few of his pins to the bottom of the carriage. His grip was steady as he helped Roy onto solid ground before dragging him into the house. Roy felt dizzy, disoriented without the usual unpleasantness that accompanied the feeling. It was easy to follow Edward, easy to reach for his hands, easy to finally move around in the bedroom he knew so well, easy to close the door, grab his husband and push him onto the bed. 

“Fuck,” Edward ground out before Roy descended on him, crushing their lips together. He wanted to be sweet, gentle, and hoped that he would be able to slow their tempo down a little later, but for now he was so hungry for Edward’s naked skin that he could do nothing else but follow that need. And he did not worry too much for now; Edward moaned against his lips, his hands a frenetic sensation on Roy’s face, in his neck, against the buttons of his wet waistcoat and shirt that were simply ripped open. 

“Shut up,” he groaned when Roy made a protesting sound, only to howl when Roy bit into the crook of his neck. He eagerly assisted when Roy started to unbutton his waistcoat, shrugging it off his shoulders before doing the same with his shirt and bowtie. Again, Edward trembled against him, and this time it was enough to slow him down. He kissed him softly, deeply, and set out to explore his body, this vessel of the loveliest soul he had ever encountered.

And it was so insanely gratifying, the way Edward reacted to the slightest touch. Roy got to know him with his hands and mouth and tongue, and he found that his husband was made of angles and strength. The hollow of his throat was a sweet thing, moving up and down as he swallowed thickly when Roy’s tongue slid across it towards the sharp line of his collarbone. On the other side: cool metal meeting hot flesh and thick, rope-like scars fusing both together. He slowed down there, was careful as he let his lips dance around the edge and listened as Edward took a deep breath. 

“Not that pretty, is it,” he whispered, and Roy almost wanted to laugh at him, tell him that it would not have mattered even if it were true. But Edward’s voice was laced with quiet insecurity, and so he took both his hands in his own and softly kissed each knuckle, no matter if made of flesh or steel.

“I want you so badly it hurts,” he said, because it was true. “It doesn‘t matter whether someone else finds you beautiful. I love you, I want you because you are strong, resilient, fierce, and, yes, because you‘re very pretty.” And that, too, was true. 

“You can’t see shit,” Edward pointed out and choked out something that could have been either a laughter or a sob when Roy let go of his hands and put his lips on his scars with a hint of teeth. Roy wanted to tell him of the wisps of red and gold Edward brought into his life; of the way he brought so tenderly the light to his sore, broken eyes like a gift, a miracle. But there would be time for that later, a lot of time, and for now there were more pressing matters. 

“I do see you very clearly right now,” he whispered and Edward shivered, either from his words or the way they ghosted along his skin. 

"What do you see?” he gasped, and Roy showed him. 

His lips found a nipple and closed around it, sucking until Edward gasped again, fingers writhing against Roy’s back. He canted his hips upwards, legs falling apart so that Roy easily found his place between them. Their bodies collided. Roy closed his useless eyes and sighed around the nub that hardened under his ministrations while he found that Edward’s cock quickly hardened for him, too. Slowly he rolled their hips together, sparks of pleasure running through him as Edward moaned, his fingers tightening in Roy’s shoulders in the most delicious way. His fingers found Edward’s waistband, and his husband was eager to assist him by divesting him of his last pieces of garment until he finally, finally laid bare before him. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Roy asked, surprised at the roughness of his own voice.

There was a bit of a pause, only a slight rustling audible. Then Edward said hastily, “Shit, you didn’t see that. I … I … uh, yeah, no, I haven’t. But I learn fast!”

“And I’ll teach you everything you want to know,” Roy promised with a low, pleased purr and bent down to press a kiss against Edward’s sternum. “Don’t be nervous, love. You only have to tell me if there’s something wrong, otherwise I might not notice.”

“Yeah,” Edward muttered and then breathed in sharply when Roy started to kiss his way down his chest over taut muscles and hard bone, finally finding a trail of golden hair that led down, down. His hands grasped Edward’s knees and pushed them apart, and Edward made a low, keening noise, muscles in his strong thighs flexing as he allowed Roy to handle him as he pleased. He was warm, he was so warm even in his metallic parts, his blood quickened and boiled under his skin until it rose and manifested into a scream when Roy’s lips closed around the tip of his cock. His tongue slid over soft, moist skin and Edward wailed, getting louder as Roy’s mouth went lower, took in more and more of him. Hot skin. Edward’s heat and his scent, strong and heady. The firmness of his cock on Roy‘s tongue, leaking furiously the deeper he swallowed him down and regulated his breath around him. He hummed with pleasure and listened to Edward’s harsh sounds. 

_ Use me _ , he thought with raw tenderness, swallowing him down until it bordered on hurt, until it made him feel alive, alive, every single nerve ignited.  _ Use me _ .  _ I am yours.  _ There was a unique kind of freedom in completely devoting oneself to another, trusting them to take care of one’s fragile heart. 

Edward’s fingers in his rain-damp hair, twitching, trembling, scrabbling for something to hold on to. Some of them slid into his neck, cool metal on his skin so pleasant that he moaned. Edward’s hips arched towards him, a strangled sound escaping his mouth as Roy grabbed his hips and firmly held them down while simultaneously sucking harder. Apparently he liked that, and Roy made a mental note to put that knowledge to even better use at a later time. For now he merely held on, pushing and sucking and listening to Edward’s hitched breaths, the tiny mewls escaping his throat as he tried to hold on for dear life. But Roy wanted him to let go; wanted him to lose himself and relax.

“Roy,“ Edward wailed, tightening his grip in silent warning. 

_ Use me _ , Roy thought again with longing and with love. Perhaps he should have been afraid of how willingly he turned himself over to Edward, but he was not. He simply was, strongly anchored to the moment as he hummed encouragingly against Edward‘s length, deeply digging his fingers into his hips as Edward arched and, with an almost pained noise, spilled down his throat. He swallowed, then, slowly drawing back bit by bit, suckled on his tip until Edward whined and jerked so violently that Roy was almost hit by one of his flailing limbs.

“Holy shit,“ Edward breathed and Roy hummed with satisfaction, only to twitch in surprise when Edward grabbed him and hauled him up only to press him flat on his back into the cushions.

For a very short, disorienting moment, Roy lost his inner balance. But then, there he was - and there was Edward, straddling his hips and attacking his lips with hungry, bruising kisses. Long wisps of light brushed against Roy‘s face and throat. When he lifted a hand, he could bury his fingers in Edward‘s hair that fell like a soft curtain around his face, and it was the single most beautiful thing that very moment.

“Let me have you,“ he murmured, one hand in Edward‘s neck and his lips almost touching the corner of his mouth. 

Edward wrapped his hands around his neck and pressed closer, shifting his hips against Roy‘s in a way that sent waves of pleasure through his groin and belly. “Yeah? You want me? What do you want to do?“

Cheeky little brat. Roy hummed. His lips slid towards his earlobe and he bit into it very gently before licking along the outer shell of Edward‘s ear and murmuring, “I want to fuck you until you forget everything but how to wail my name.“

“Holy shit,“ Edward breathed, voice wavering a little. “Okay, yeah, do I - what do I have to do?“

His eagerness sent shivers of excitement down Roy’s spine and he kissed his brow. “Get me the oil in the bedside drawer, love.”

“Yeah,” Edward breathed, then he was gone for a moment. Roy settled into a sitting position, back against the headboard, while he listened and felt as he moved around the bed, opened the drawer and rummaged in it before he made a triumphant noise and came back. Roy regathered him in his arms, put the vial next to him for now and drew Edward into a soft, elongated kiss. A few moments of regaining strength, mostly so that his poor husband would not be oversensitized and in discomfort from his orgasm for what was to come. 

Edward’s hands on his shoulders, sliding down his arms and exploring his chest. There was nothing hesitant about the way he touched Roy. He was eager, curious, fingers curling around Roy’s bicep and digging into his abs while his mouth left a hot trail from his chin to his chest. Then his hands dipped lower until he stroked Roy’s thigh and hips before carefully wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. His grip was a little too tight, but that was quite alright. Roy panted against his mouth, unable to feel anything but Edward’s touch, his hammering heartbeat against his own. 

“Here,” he whispered, reached for the vial and opened it very carefully, which was not made easier by the way Edward had started to explore him. He managed to reach for his hand without spilling anything except for a few droplets that fell into Edward’s palm. A small noise from his lover that deliciously prickled in his neck, then his hand was around Roy again, and the softened friction almost caused him to lose his grip on the vial. He breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself, and Edward made a low, pleased sound at his obvious dizziness. 

“You like that, don’t you, making me feel like this,” he hummed, steadily stroking his side. 

Edward breathed a satisfied confirmation, only to shiver when Roy’s oiled fingers slid over his tailbone, very gently slipping between his cheeks. “Oh-“

“Too soon?” Roy’s fingers stopped and he tilted his head a little, reflexively squinting a little in order to gauge his reaction. 

“No, just …” Breathless laughter. “I don’t know. Just …”

“It’s fine,” Roy murmured, kissed his cheekbone and nose, the upturned corners of his mouth and lips. “I’m here. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am,” Edward said, but he still pushed closer against Roy, who carefully stroked his back with his free hand, looking for tensions that might say anything other than his words. But he did not find anything particularly concerning and his voice was steady, so he dared to slide a little further.

“Look at me,” he whispered and could only assume that Edward did; he drank in the hitch in Edward‘s breath as his finger slipped inside him, felt the reflexive tension in his muscles that only slowly started to lessen when Roy‘s free hand rubbed his back in tender circles. 

And then Edward let go of him, but that was alright since his arms settled around Roy‘s neck instead, and there was his panting breath on his cheek that lapsed into soft, quiet whines the further Roy explored him, the further Roy stretched him. Edward was burning hot, his heartbeat like a caged animal, a steady thrum against Roy‘s skin while he held him, and had him.

“More?“ he whispered, not trusting his own voice - but how could he, how could he, when Edward bit into his earlobe instead of a reply and his thighs opened around Roy‘s hips so wide it was a wonder he did not fall apart in his lap? A swear when Roy slid another finger into him and immediately stretched - but Edward apparently liked the burn and that was not much of a surprise. His forehead fell against Roy‘s shoulders as he groaned, opening around Roy‘s fingers so willingly. 

And then Roy‘s fingertip brushed that sensitive spot inside him and Edward bit into his shoulder with a scream. 

Hot pain bloomed where Edward‘s teeth had sunk into him and ripped a moan out of his throat; hot pain, but it quickly melted into the rest of the roiling pleasure that had completely taken him over, building and building as Edward howled against him, demandingly pushing both hands against his chest until he gave him another finger and caused him to howl even more. Edward tamed was a beautiful thing; Edward unleashed was a wild, feral thing he wanted to devote his entire life to. 

“Enough of this shit, I want the real thing,” Edward growled against his lips, teeth clacking against Roy’s as he slipped his tongue into Roy’s mouth, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders. Edward was not afraid to bruise him. Edward was melting against him, into him, urging him on and Roy was helpless to do anything but comply. 

“Yes, my dear,” he murmured, drawing a breathless chuckle from his lover before he could feel him twitch in his arms as Roy slowly retracted his fingers and spent several unsatisfying, rather graceless moments to grope for the vial of oil until Edward had mercy on him and pressed it into his fingers.

“You’re sweet,” he said and kissed the corner of Roy’s mouth which was at least a little consolation for Roy’s slightly wounded pride. 

“You’re sweeter,” he replied and reached for Edward’s hand to turn it around until it was palms upwards. “Tell me when it overflows.”

He poured the oil and Edward did as he was told, closing the vial for him with his clean hand before his breath picked up in excitement as Roy gently guided his fingers around his cock, groaning as they finally closed around him.

“That’s it, make me nice and wet for you,” he growled, digging his fingers into Edward’s backside to press him deeper, creating more friction between them that caused both their breaths to stutter. Edward shuddered, whimpering whines escaping his throat in a cascade Roy was not even sure he was aware of. He held him close as he gently but firmly guided him where he wanted him, and - oh - 

Oh, there he was. There they were. He was breathless, trembling, awed as he sank into Edward, as they became one. Still no chance to see Edward; but he could taste the light on his skin as he softly kissed his shoulder and held his hands against his chest as his lover acclimated to the feeling inside him. He could taste the light, and he could hear and smell it, and it all ran together and poured into the body, the life in his lap. A star, burning against him. A sun, warming him up from his bones to every single hair on his skin.  _ Use me _ , he thought, still trembling, hands splayed on the back of his sun to hold as much of it as he could. Words were failing him. He blinked a few times, suddenly afraid that all of this might have merely been a dream. 

Perhaps it was just coincidence, or perhaps Edward sensed or saw what he felt because suddenly there were his trembling hands in his hair and his lips against Roy’s throat. It was him who started to move, slowly and a little unsurely, but gaining more confidence with every passing moment. Glorious youth: He was hard again, the tip of his length brushing against Roy’s belly with every other thrust, and he whined, mouth hot and moist against Roy’s neck, when Roy wrapped his fingers around him to give him some more friction. They were one, embraced, bodies as close as bodies could get, two universes colliding for a brief, beautiful, endless moment. 

“I’m here,” Edward whispered, strangely tender for a sun, a star wrapped in the embrace of a man who felt like the darkest spot of night sometimes. 

_ I’m here.  _ Roy let it melt on the tip of his tongue, his lips pressed against Edward’s jaw, his mouth, and there was the light, the light, and it was enough, more than enough.


	7. On The Creation Of Starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who read this! This is more an epilogue than a real chapter, but I hope you'll it nevertheless. <3   
> I'm already working on something new and RoyEd-related, so keep your eyes open in case you're interested in more from le moi. :3
> 
> The only song on [the playlist](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLJBit0CNBHD9G5gPW5V4QTn5FdpTUWK-B) for this chapter is _A Love Song_ by Garth Stevenson.

“Promise me you won’t look out of the carriage windows,” Roy had said. Then he had shut the curtains of said carriage windows before promptly falling asleep, and that was just outrageously unfair since the asshole knew very well that Edward would never, not if he was asleep on top of him being blind. 

So Edward had spent the better part of three hours of an entirely boring ride with reading and throwing tiny paper balls into Roy’s hair; he had quite good aim despite the carriage’s rumbling and thus it looked as if it had snowed on Roy. His husband slept on, unperturbed. Edward let him because he knew that Roy was exhausted after several weeks of excruciating planning and campaigning. Wherever they were headed to, whatever Roy had planned in his usual secrecy, Edward was pretty sure that it would help both of them relax and enjoy what was their first real vacation as a married couple. It was a shame it had taken them so long, Edward briefly thought; winter had come and gone, then spring, before they had finally managed to flee the city.  


One of the paper balls missed and hit Roy directly in the face.

“Great,” Roy said without opening his eyes, “First I’m blinded by your beauty, now I’m disfigured by your boredom. You do like to make me suffer, don’t you?”

“I already bought you blind and disfigured, be glad I’m still willing to put up with you,” Edward said and yelped when Roy’s hands shot forward, grabbed him and pulled him into his lap where he found himself kissed so slowly and sensually that he almost did not laugh about his husband’s disheveled appearance.   
“Where are we?” Roy murmured against his lips, stroking his back so softly and tenderly that Edward started to purr without even realizing. 

It took him a moment to reply. “Are you serious? You told me not to look out of the window, so I have no fucking clue where we are.”

“Hmm,” Roy said, then, “I see,” which he did on purpose because he thought he was funny and Edward was enabling him by still laughing about his ideas of a joke. “Well, I guess it’s an adventure for both of us then.”

“We could certainly get adventurous in the carriage,” Edward suggested, pressing his lips against his throat and mouthing at his adam’s apple until he could feel him swallow. 

“Well,” Roy said very softly, but with enough heat in his voice that warmth started to uncurl low and pleasant in Edward’s belly. “Who am I to deny my dearest husband, especially on a day like this?”

“Damn right,” Edward said, and then they said nothing for quite a while, at least not with words. 

They had managed to get themselves back into a somewhat presentable state - Edward merely laughing his ass off when Roy was incredibly confused about the tiny little objects in his hair and shook them off like a wet dog - by the time the carriage slowed to a halt. Edward, pleased and relieved that they had finally reached their goal, opened the door as soon as he could and jumped onto the ground.

Only to stand stock-still as he realized where exactly they were.

Flamel Cottage was nothing he had ever expected to see in this life again; they had sold it, and the thought that someone probably had remodeled it, that other people lived there, had killed any desire to visit. But there it was, and he found that it looked exactly like he remembered it: A quaint house sizable enough to comfortably host four to five people, walls painted white and thatched with a fire-red roof. There was the black and golden painting on one of the walls that gave the cottage its name and that he remembered chipped and damaged from time, only that someone apparently had refreshed the paint because now it shone as good as new. There was the red door with its heavy, solid iron knocker, and there were window sills full of flowers. Around it one of the most beautiful specks of land stretched wide in golden fields of wheat and lusciously green meadows, and there, in close distance, was the sea, the endless sea. He could hear the waves from here, tangling with the sound of a gentle breeze treading its invisible fingers through the grass and the wheat, and for a moment he thought he could hear his mother’s laughter as well, so clear and so warm. 

He stood there and looked, and there was a lump in his throat, so big that he could not seem to move as Roy very carefully exited the carriage. When he reached for his arm, Edward reflexively met him halfway, but he could not take his eyes off the house. 

Roy breathed in deeply and hummed. “Mmmh. I love this. I’ve forgotten what the air smells like, so close to the sea.”

“Yes,” Edward whispered, not trusting his own voice.

“Are you alright?” Roy asked quietly, gently, only a hint of worry in his voice. He turned his head towards him, squinting his eyes in that lovely, useless way of attempting to tune in a little more to him, and the lump in Edward’s throat grew even more, pressed up and against his eyes. He had told Roy of this place, of course, once or twice, of how happy they had been here, how much it had meant to his parents. But Roy had never given any hint that he might simply …

And then the door of Flamel Cottage opened and Alphonse burst out with flushed cheeks and livelier than Edward had seen him in a long time. The air around here was good for him, he knew; they had sent him to the seaside quite a few times when they had been able to afford it, and it had always done wonders for him.

“You’re here! Finally!” Alphonse cried merrily and flung his arms around his neck. “Well, Brother? Are you surprised? Isn’t this nice? Roy and Miss Hawkeye and I spent ages planning this, everything’s renovated and stuff, and it looks just like when we’re kids!”

“Yes,” Edward murmured against Al’s neck and tried to breathe.

“Alphonse was kind enough to overlook the renovations,” Roy said quietly. 

“And I’ve decided that I’ll stay here and look after the grounds. I’m doing so much better here, Brother, and I can write my novels here in peace. And my rooms are right on the ground floor - we’ve done something pretty nice with the attic and turned it into the main bedroom, so I won’t hear any of your shenanigans during your stays here.” Al drew back a little to look him in the face. “Are you happy, Br- oh, Edward. Don’t cry, you big baby!”

“Shut up,” Edward sniffled and angrily wiped his cheeks. 

“You don’t like it,” Roy said, distressed and obviously jumping to the wrong conclusion as soon as he had the chance. “Oh God - I’m sorry, I just thought - I just wanted to get this one back for you since you seemed so fond of it, but apparently I shouldn’t have - I’m sure we’ll find a solution, we can go somewhere else-”

“Did you hit your head?” Edward demanded and released Roy to fling himself against him, steadying him when his husband flinched and almost stumbled. He wrapped his arms very tightly around his neck and hid his face against Roy’s chest. “Fuck. You romantic asshole. I don’t know how to top that.”

“You could start by topping  _ him _ , probably,” Alphonse remarked.

“Shut up,” Edward said again while Roy laughed, tension draining out of him as he started to gently stroke Edward’s shoulders. “I love it. Thank you. I - I can’t believe it. I can’t believe  _ you _ . You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” Roy said very simply. He reached for his hands and held them between his own, and then their lips met for a kiss so sweet it felt like spun starlight. “Happy anniversary, my love. To us, and to many more anniversaries to come.”

“You fucking bet,” Edward said against his lips. 

They breathed into each other, hands and hearts entwined, and behind them, the gentle breeze carried his brother’s joyous laughter over towards the sea. 


End file.
